Gray Dreams
by paradoxed
Summary: A compilation of previous versions of other stories or abandoned works. A testament to progress.
1. HotM V1? Remains

_Hunt of the Maelstrom - V1.?_

This chapter is what's salvageable (see: tolerable) from my earliest passable writing, recovered from January 20, 2015. There are some other fragments from that time too disjointed to share, with overindulgences inspired by _Drifting_ by AlphaDelta1001 and _Mirage Blade Fox_ by The Howling Behemoth, along with a bland OC based on an old friend. An earlier complete garbage version is on the same doc from December 22, 2014, but is decidedly too terrible to share. Bits of writing predate that still and are equally bad, but thus V1.? most aptly describes the following. And yes, this is the seed of _Hunt of the Maelstrom_. I still like and wish to use some of the ideas here, and it's a struggle to not edit it to a passable level of quality.

Any future commentary shall always be posted at the top, with any author notes at the bottom being merely a relic of its time.

* * *

_I own Percy Jackson. Yes, yes, I do. I totally do. This is not sarcasm. Completely. Totally. Own. Percy Jackson. And all those ideas. Yesyesyes._

I once dreamed I owned the universe. It was terrifying.

-1-0-8-0-

"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along."

\- Terry Pratchett

-1-0-8-0-

_October_, 2004

-1-0-8-0-

At the moment, Percy was wondering, 'How did I get into this skata?'

Currently looking down the wrong side of a notched arrow, he quickly reviewed what had just occurred.

There he was, minding his own business munching a midday snack when he tripped over a carcass of some sort while traveling in the woods somewhere around Yellowstone. Luckily, he hadn't impaled himself on the arrow in the stag's eye or the antlers.

So there he was, face first into some muck sputtering out half dead leaves and his bag entangled in the stag's legs, when he heard a low, hearty thrum. Looking back at it now, he supposed he was extremely lucky - the recurve bow releases rather loud sounds as it shoots an arrow. Sound traveled about three times as fast as a normal arrow released from a recurve bow, and only about one and a half times as fast as a magical arrow. Fortunately for him, the projectile coming at him was a standard, non-magical one. As it was, he had managed to pull the rather large corpse 3 inches over, just in time to cause an arrow aimed at his head to glance off the stag's antlers.

Dekara.

Yanking his backpack (snapping one of the straps in the process), Percy took off in the opposite direction of where the arrow came from. While he was wearing running shoes, he had chosen to wear jeans for its durability, not anticipating having to run from pointy arrows intent on killing him. Luckily, he was also clothed in a dark fist green jacket, which camouflaged decently in the dense forest.

Sprinting on boulders over a rapids in a river, he continued on. If he tilted his head sideways just enough, he could hear a slight shuffling from at least three directions. Skata. Three? He quickly veered left and began to zig-zag on a path parallel to the water source.

Suddenly, he flinched as another twang rang out into the air and he slipped into the ground. As if by divine blessing, that had saved him from receiving an arrow to his calf to stop him from running. However, as good as his fortune was, it grazed his shoulder and sliced the remaining strap of his backpack, which was full of his supplies.

Cursing, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a shimmering dagger. Hearing several more bow strings released, he turned and managed to dodge one and bat aside the other, in a surge of adrenaline.

Of course, that did nothing for the other arrow that dug through the flesh of the arm he was holding his dagger in the right. Percy had dropped the knife reflexively as he grunted. Moving quickly, he kneeled and broke off the feathered end of the arrow and pulled out the shaft by the arrow head. The resulting lance of pain throbbed, and he tossed the arrow aside and turned to pick up his dagger with his left hand.

That is, until a rather large boot had stepped on his dagger's handle and a monotone, unidentifiable voice from above coldly spoke, "One inch further and you die."

Well then. There were four, not three.

Still kneeling, he glanced up and immediate went cross eyed trying to see past the arrow aimed between his eyes. Raising his hands slowly in a defensive, practically begging, he could overhear slight conversations from his hunters.

"Better chase than the stag, eh?"

"Slightly. Just slightly. Monsters are only slightly more intelligent prey."

"Oh, poo, too bad we can't string him up and tear off his flesh, hm?"

"At least not tonight."

'Well, I can kinda take that, but never is much better,' Percy thought.

His hands darted forward and twisted the bow poised to shoot his face away while pulling the bow towards him. With his assailant surprised and falling slightly towards him, he half jumped, propelling his legs under and in front to break the archer's legs. The resulting cracks and scream told him he succeeded, and he quickly bundled all his things, crashed through the half ready pursuers of his back to the stream.

The monsters behind him, he thought, must be dangerous. Traveling in a cohesive group and could use hunting bows - they must have snapped up many demigods like him.

Another throaty twang sung out into the darkening day, and an arrow sunk into Percy's back. He released a half cry - staggered a few more steps - and fell into the river, sinking into its depths and pulled quickly downriver.

The only trace of him left was the dagger, stuck in a tree root next to the fast moving water.

Trudging sounds could be heard, of a single being and another supported by two others. A slender fur covered hand reached down and picked up the dagger.

"Do you think we can still find him?"

"I want to kick him in the balls for breaking my legs."

"Not worth the time. It's getting too dark to follow the river safely, so trying would mean waiting til tomorrow. He'd probably be too far by then."

"Scent would be lost in the river, too. Best to get back."

"Should we mention this later? We already picked up dinner, it's time to get with the rest."

"We'll have to report this."

Beyond, a blood moon rose.

-1-0-8-0-

The river crashed along the darkness, flowing swiftly and murkily. It weaved and bent, beside shores filled with debris and pollution. Along one sudden bend, a dripping, shivering hand shot out of the water and grasped the riverside bank.

Percy Jackson slowly dragged himself and his things out of the river's depths. Adjusting to the world out of the water, he shivered, then collapsed down tiredly and closed his eyes to rest. 'I guess I can't get through a week without something happening, let alone a month,' he mused, 'Well, if they're still chasing me I better get going.'

"Oh, don't worry, no one's chasing you at the moment. Well, if you don't include me."

'Oh, goody, just ano- … wait a second … vlacas, get moving!'

Percy bolted upright, near smashing his face into the one peering down upon him. Quickly moving, he spun and drew his dagger.

"Not to be cliche or anything, but who are you?" He asked, eyes narrowing as he identified the person before him.

The person who aroused him was in fact a teenage girl of sorts, around her twenties. Brown hair in a simple mid-placed ponytail, icy black eyes, a narrow and small nose placed above rather thin maroon lips. Bone pale skin color, dressed in clothes fit to be a celebrity's at the Oscar Awards. Definitely a goddess.

"And considering that you're definitely an immortal, what do you want with me?"

"Oh, clever boy. Growing so fast, knowing that a goddess wouldn't be here for the goodness of her heart," the lady teased, smiling in a flirtatious and knowing manner, "A bit of an ego, too, since you think that you're that important for someone to come to you."

"Well, considering my father is Poseidon …"

"Admittedly, that is fair reasoning. Well, I am feeling generous, so I will answer your questions, and one more that you choose. I am a river goddess, and I called in a few favors to be able to talk to you. And you are here because you owe me much." The goddess sat on the bank, and gestured for Percy to sit beside her.

Stubbornly, he remained standing. "I don't owe any god anything! I definitely didn't get into any debt with a RIVER goddess!"

"Oh, you didn't. You most certainly did not. However, just like how you mentioned your father is Poseidon, and that you might be just that essential because of him, you are here because of him."

"Wait … why the hell would he owe anything to a river god? He's the lord of the seas!"

"You are now out of questions that I will answer for you. He is in debt to me because he broke an oath with me. Then again, considering how unfaithful he is to Amphitrite, that's not surprising." Now, the goddess leaned back, and the bank rose to form a cushion to lean upon.

"Huh? What do you me-"

"No more questions will be answered, and thus, I will not have time wasted in hearing you answer questions," interrupted the goddess, "I myself bored, so I am here to give you a choice. As I said earlier - no one is chasing you at the moment - unless you include me, and that comes with your choice now."

"What ch-"

"No interruptions. As it is, since if I just chase you and kill you, it'd be rather boring, I am deciding to give you the chance at another path. Considering how easily I tracked you down, I think you'd choose the other choice if you want to live."

"And that is?"

"To become a source of influence from me. I am well known in the Greek Realm, Son of Poseidon. However, my influence upon the world is frustratingly little. The Olympians deem me a minor goddess! Such arrogance and ego! Choose to become an avatar of mine - like an adoption or blessing of sorts. Of course, you'll be out of the running for the other blessing I can give, but you won't be chased to the Underworld by my minions." The goddess smirked.

"Do I even have a choice?"

"Oh, little demigod, you always have a choice. It's just abundantly clear which allows your survival and which doesn't. Chin up, child. You don't have much to fear from me. Consider it another gift, really. Just like the one from your adoptive mother."

"How do you know about that? That was-"

The goddess tittered, once again interrupting Percy. "I said no more questions, did I not? Anyways things like that are easily discernible - the blessing of others are visible upon those one chooses to bless. As I can think of no other reason, I can see why she blessed you. Nonetheless, you haven't learned how to use any of the gifts she granted you. A good thing, too, as one must learn these things for themselves to be truly used well."

"... I hate you."

"Strong words, child, but you will thank me in the years to come. Consider me a matron of sorts. You are now very valuable to me, and your path is woven tightly with the fate of the Olympians. I will care for you. I give you a weapon, then, to go along with that cursed dagger you found."

Percy dropped the dagger he was still gripping rather tightly. "CURSED?"

"Oh, no worries, child, it won't hurt you. At least, not until … perhaps I'll tell you later."

"TELL ME NOW! THI-"

"Vlacas. Don't test me," the goddess now stood, slightly angry, and the river beside them rose and raged to match her indignation. "You are still an ant, and if you go too far, I can always just take your soul."

Percy fell to the ground beside his dagger. As young as he was, he knew it was not good to alienate one who was about to support him. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Better. Now, the weapon and the blessing."

Percy looked up, to see the debris filled bank rise and toss him into the river.

Now that he was more alert, he could see that the debris was torn diplomas, broken toys, empty wedding boxes, and much more …

"Oh Styx."

As he crashed into the river, he woke up from his dream, being pulled up from the river he was in earlier. His bag was tightly clenched in his hands, and he could feel a new weapon strapped to his back.

Percy tried to focus on the person aiding him, but he once again blacked out.

-1-0-8-0-

A/N - Writing is a hobby of mine and this story will be written at the same speed my muse gives me ideas. I will certainly finish giving out the plot at least, if I do give up on the story. Ideas may or may not be widely accepted, but screw you this is fanfiction. I'd like to rewrite something I deleted in an A/N in a chapter I deleted, and say again to whoever said that I wrote the prophecy wrong - what part of fanfiction is not understandable? Okay, I must keep the prophecy the same then. Might as well not make a Pertimis story, since Artemis is an eternal maiden and all.


	2. KoK V1 C1

_Kalends of Kingdoms V1 C1_

Personally, I suggest you don't read any of version 1 for _Kalends of Kingdoms_. Just skip it. This garbage is dug out and posted here mostly for posterity's sake, almost all of it being written intensively over a summer week in 2015. Version 2 contains a lot of the same with some new scenes and better writing, which can be found further down the line. My writing improved drastically from the practice, but the leftovers from getting there are meh. Of course, there are still those of you who would read this regardless. So as a warning, there's a few scenes missing here and there from document rearrangements over time, including an important fight scene approximately 4 chapters in, but is properly included in version 2. Other than that, I haven't even really bothered looking through enough to actually know if any of this flows correctly, so there may be other gaps. Again, there's a version 2 that will come after the version 2 of _Hunt of the Maelstrom_, as that is chronologically what I worked on after this dumpster fire.

* * *

I claim the rights to writing unique fanfiction about something I can't claim ownership of.

A few more warnings.

If you're here looking for a romance, that isn't the focus of the story. The fact that this story is not a romance has probably cost me a lot of readers already, but I'm comfortable with that. I plan for the relationship to be deep, yes, but there will be a lot of other action going on and the depth of the relationship will take a long time.

There's a lot of foreshadowing.

The plot is extremely convoluted.

Otherwise, have fun. Cursing is somewhat abundant later, but not enough to make this rated M.

* * *

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." - William Shakespeare

* * *

It wasn't the Underworld.

Where he was … Percy knew it wasn't Hell, only because he had been there before. That, and the night sky above, while obscured by smoke still rising from around him, shone with constellations. But still, for anyone who had yet to have the honor of visiting, well …

The soft crunching of his tightly laced black running shoes treading over equally dark ashes and gravel, several inches deep, seemed to tell otherwise. His clothes were similarly colored, though not for all the same reasons. For example, his loose fitting jeans were once a standard denim blue, but were now smeared monochrome by the same warm cinders drifting along the ground. His hooded zip jacket indeed had been black, but the white tee-shirt he had underneath looked like it had been tie dyed by various grays, now appearing soot colored. His exposed skin was equally smudged by the ashes; his hair seemed to be even darker in shade than it had already been - which was raven black. And if one's eyes were sharp enough, they would be able to see the tears in the clothing that were hidden by the cloak of night, and perhaps even detect the conspicuous brown stains that covered his body, here and there.

Well … perhaps the Underworld was better. At least there, Percy knew it was the Underworld. There, it would actually have more color, and he would be able to visit those once living that he knew in Elysium. Or even pass by the Fields of Punishment, and give some people that deserved it a few kicks in the crotch.

Then he wouldn't be lost in the remnants of a place he had once known. It had been a home, a place to live in and stay in. It was a place that he and those that he shared it with treasured dearly, not having had a concrete home since they were forced into the world they lived in now.

And it was gone. A place to stay, a home to be had, family through shared struggles lost, supplies burned away, materials blasted down … Percy was foraging away for what was still remaining, his somewhat glazed green eyes perused the mounds of rubble that remained of his home. A steel sword, made from unique iron, was dragged limply tip down along the earth.

Well, he thought as he smiled grimly beneath a bandanna used to filter the air, at least that's one enemy down for the count.

Noting the shattered remnants of a book not too far off, Percy's gait increased, bringing the Son of Poseidon closer much faster. It lay ironically face up, the front cover smouldering away by tiny embers. Pieces of it were shorn away, its binding completely destroyed and pages shredded. However, as his head tilted, his sharp eyesight picked up a messy scrawl, left on the top right margin just past the cover. Percy's Journal. Entry 1.

How long ago was that? He could still remember etching those words down into fresh paper, wishing to be able to keep a legacy to perhaps be remembered by …

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 1

Legends don't seem to last very long.

They burn out, or suffer. Or both. The ones we know of, at least. How many heroes have we forgotten about? And those that we know of, so few actually lived to die peacefully in old age. They died, left as only ashes, as people that we should look up to! The wonderful dead, those who are gone from fulfilling the gods' wishes.

They've turned to golden dust, much like the monsters we slay - very pretty, yes - but insignificant particles that lose meaning.

I suppose I'm being dramatic. But with all the stories that I've encountered - in libraries, told by others, from my mother, in temples, one time even in a girl's restroom (it's really complicated) - I can't just help but see it this way. It's kinda sick, how we're really just the playthings of gods.

I haven't even met one yet. Haven't they never learned anything in the past three thousand years, that they could change how we live now? I hope I'm not like them, I'd rather never leave people suffering. But anyhow, they're just stronger than us. So they rule us. Pity. It's almost like the golden rule! Those who have the gold, make the rules! Except in this case, their power lets them make the rules.

One day, I hope they get a taste of their own medicine. To be tossed around like toys, in a world far beyond the scope of their own comprehension. To understand how it feels like to be demigod.

Perhaps I'm not in the right frame of mind for this. It's been … two years? Something like that. Two … years … wow. How many groups have I snuck into? And then get kicked out of or ditched? Must be quite a few.

Why do the gods make us suffer so? Why don't we have some sort of safe haven for demigods? No, they simply find some attractive mortal, get knocked up or get the mortal knocked up, then release a child to live a life equivalent to trying to survive a zombie attack with the only safe zones being a rotting wooden platform on top of an open unfed shark tank. We deserve some kinda … camp, a camp for demigods to learn tricks of the thrice damned trade instead of dying like flies whenever monsters decide to come visit. Even trained demigods tire out, getting killed far too easily, or even dying fighting each other. The average gang of fellow demigods that seemed to lose and replace members daily. Well, not daily. Monthly.

I suppose I should really explain the gods better. The Greek gods you learned of, likely picked stories up of and thought were interesting? They're real. Kinda. They are much, much, more. They also became the Roman gods, later on too, right, with different names? With different personalities. And this fact was kept hidden from the children they had on both sides. But, as we are part human, insatiably curious, both sides came into conflict.

A little history on Romans and Greeks - Romans conquered Greece and adopted its culture. However, when the empire slowly collapsed after the infamous descendant of Venus, Julius Caesar, the Byzantines remained - who were much more Greek than Roman. And so, conflicts arose constantly - there's … actually, demigod history sucks, so I only know that the American Revolutionary War, American Civil War, and two World Wars were influenced by idiotic demigod conflicts. I'm Greek myself, but that really doesn't matter as much now.

Well, before World War I, Hades decided to go to Europe for a while to avoid the other Olympian's constant hate on him. And ... he ended up giving birth to … well, the most infamous person to ever be born in Austria. Austria-Hungary? Whatever it was. That kid would fight in the first World War. He was a good soldier, and spent years festering his hatred against all who defeated the side he fought for. And began World War II. Freaking god damn grudge fatal flaw of children of the Underworld. Sheesh. And so the son of Pluto was the catalyst of the loss of everything. Obsessed with finding the godly power of Jupiter to win the world and then unite against the gods.

I suppose he never actually learned that there were actually camps of people just like him in America. There were quite a few demigods in Europe, those who traveled there or were occasionally born there, but I don't think he ever knew of Camp Half Blood or Camp Jupiter. But that was not to be, as he began to recruit other demigods, all operating with the knowledge that the gods were trying to split demigod society. He made what was essentially another camp, a camp with possibly the power to annihilate Olympus. But as it happens, both Roman and Greek camp demigods helped face down the West front of the war.

But the gods decreed - the camps would be taken apart. I'm not even sure why. Zeus? Jupiter? Zepiter? Going off tangent. They still do have multiple personalities, but they mostly work together. Ignoring complete personality dominance such as Athena being much more powerful and having more aspects to draw strength from than her counterpart Minerva, and Pluto much the same, with wealth. Mars usually shows up more often than Ares due to Mars having self control compared to Ares. It's a bit confusing.

Anyways, since then, there haven't been camps. Some gods take pity - Hermes and Mercury (they actually completely split apart in order to split workload - I guess it's efficient) has helped groups get onto their feet. Actually … that might be relationship bias, being a father and all. Better for his children than others.

The culture differentiation hatred has mostly gone away - a few major groups still try to stay full Roman or Greek, but by now it's simply more efficient to get any extra pair of hands to help survive. The major groups are led by the classical teachers of each - Chiron and Lupa. Called Greeks and Romes - I don't think I need to tell you which is which. They are pretty big - maybe numbering two hundred each. They've tried gathering more people, but the gods somewhat capped their numbers. Considering camps used to be 2 to 5 times larger, I guess it makes sense. I've actually seen both. Funnily enough, the Greeks are now localize at the West Coast and the Romes in the East. Something about irony of where the original camps were?

I suppose I started this up so that I could possibly have my own legend, and my own core group. Might well keep track, right? Perhaps I can be something infamous. The most well known crew is Artemis's Huntresses. If you're male, don't get caught by them. There's a similar big group made of primarily Apollo archers too. I was picked up by a group led by the Thief Lord for a while. They have the advantage of Hermes/Mercury supplying them biannually, they travel around the country. I dropped from that group into a group in the South led by a guy known only by his last name - Beckendorf. Later, got captured by a group calling themselves Minors; something about pride of not letting in any child of an major god. My parent is Poseidon, not that I'll tell anyone who I won't be sticking around with. So I stayed with them a bit. Then that group was completely annihilated by the Romans. During that time I just ran off. It was the first time I witnessed death. Didn't have an appetite for a few days. There's just something about seeing the contents of another person's stomach dripping out of them that keeps you from being hungry.

After that I got myself across the country boarding a plane. The thing about Zeus blasting kids of Poseidon from the air is a myth - or at least now a myth. Don't think he cares as much anymore, he's no longer that petty to just go around smiting people. Scariest damn thing I've done, stealing a seat on the plane by waiting on the airfield and ditching after, though. I was picked up by some Greek spotters, looking for recruits. A few died recently in a contestation of territory against monsters. And this is where I picked up a journal so I could begin writing.

There was dictionary I picked up to read in my travels has been mighty handy in learning how to read. Got around my dyslexia by looking out the corners of my eye. My eyesight should be fine. Right?

With that said, we can address monsters! It's curious how different they are from what one can pick up from the old myths floating around libraries and the internet. Since the camps were dispersed, they've also began grouping up and forming their own civilizations - those with more intelligence. They also began to hunt other monsters to eat - came across a rather civil Cyclops roasting pieces of hellhound meat that came from a spoil of war. He offered me some jerky, mentioned something about Poseidon answering his prayers and returning the favor. I … got hungry enough to eat it.

Tasted like beef, almost.

Anyway, the more intelligent monster types - Cyclops, Laestrygonians, Telekhines, too many to really name … they've also gathered in certain cities and various tribes across the country. There's a certain snake hellhole of Dracaenae somewhere in the country, apparently. Hope I never have to go through there. Satyrs and dryads are also pretty much everywhere! I swear I've had a few following me. Also, monsters have some seriously odd reproduction or evolution system, because I swear I've seen a hellcat and Nemean bull fighting. Seriously. A golden, freaking fur armored tank of a bovine tearing the hell out the cat that I mentioned.

What else could possibly be important? Fighting style? I'm not too sure yet. I've been trying some weapons, and I cannot shoot an arrow out of a bow for my life. Swords are handy, and I've used the leftovers of a computer hard drive as a shield before. Might just be normal metal, but still defends against Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold. I can't exactly get the hang of spears - used one in a pinch against a flock of feather chucking birds, but not my thing. I've yet to find a knife or short sword with a balance I could use.

For now, I've been just using a steel bar that I found. The groups I've been with never trusted recruits enough to let us keep any weapons, though they did teach some interesting tips.

The centaur leader of Greeks is coming over my way. I should probably put this away. Would he care that I stole a journal book and pens from the airport store? Or clothes? Still haven't found a good place to shower and change, and I haven't got the chance too since having to cross a rainy and muddy airfield.

* * *

It was just past sunset, and two of his scouts had dragged in … this.

"What is your name, dear boy?" A bearded centaur smiled lightly, eyes twinkling. One fact Chiron had learned over his many years teaching was that calling people 'dear', while enjoyable for himself, was quite annoying to the recipients. It did well for power playing, verbally placing whomever he called dear below himself.

"Uh … Arthur." His eyes pierced the extremely dirty boy sitting against the wall. The child was so messy that his hair was a nasty grit brown, and any clothing that the boy wore was wearing away into dust. The only thing that seemed to be anything other than dumpster worthy was a relatively new pair of shoes.

Actually … that showed a good chunk of intelligence from the young boy. If one was going to travel, shoes were priority. No obvious weapons besides a light metal pole strapped to a leg, which was also ideal for a boy that age. Beyond the loss of ability to reach divine metals, that weapon would be more effective than a sword. Finally, the demigod was wearing a thrown out backpack with only one strap remaining.

Definitely a smart boy. Smart enough to not immediately tell his name?

"Surname?" Chiron pressed. The evening light shone upon him as he stood majestically, a glossy coat only emphasizing the clean, formal clothing that he wore upon his upper body.

"Green." There was a distinct pause before the boy answered. Definitely lying. Perhaps he shouldn't have antagonized him with 'dear'? Demigods hated it so, having to fight so often in the world.

"Are you sure?" Perhaps the boy could be intimidated.

"How would I not be sure of my own name, Chiron? It would be like not knowing yours, the most well known centaur of all." Ah. Perhaps not then. Well, it was always nice to hear about the legacy he left in this god forsaken land.

Puffing up slightly, reassured with the knowledge of his own importance, the half-horse spoke. "Well learned, half blood. But from where did you learn your history? I know that my own self is someone of prominence, but how much do you know?" Nowadays, the mortals had compiled many a myth into libraries and computers. Was this boy resourceful enough to access such knowledge?

The boy only sighed out softly, "My mother was an excellent teacher." A smart mother then, not so stupid as to try and shelter the boy. And since gods did not raise children, his godly parent was male.

Then how inherently powerful was this child? "Then your father was?"

The boy probably knew his father, if his mother also knew of the Greek Pantheon. But was his father an Olympian, those who were inherently strong? Chiron could only mourn the lost opportunities granted by the satyrs once under his jurisdiction. It was so much simpler to identify demigods. The street rat before him seemed to be considering whether to answer him or not, so the boy was most definitely very intelligent. Almost intelligent enough to mark as a child of Athena, if his godly parent wasn't male. Unless that was a lie earlier? Doubtful.

The child opened his mouth, seeming to be about to blurt out the name of his father. However, the boy paused, as if taking in a recollection from his past. Again moving to speak, the boy only said, "My mother also told me never to speak names of power. How do I know can I trust you with it, venerable teacher?"

The scale from which one could measure the degree of how affronted the centaur felt was just about 10/10. Normally very tolerant, recent times had been very trying for Chiron, having to deal with many acquisitions as of late, and controlling his demigods. "Why, dear boy, I am quite insulted. Are you insinuating that I would take advantage of you, a mere child? I am far too busy with other matters to deal with the likes of such."

The boy was shying away now, frightened by the rearing legs that accented the centaur's outburst. Ah, damn. The boy probably wouldn't be of any use anyways. This … 'Arthur Green' would not bring any help to his community. He was probably bluffing about knowing his godly parent too, no doubt that was why the boy was so scared by himself calling said bluff. Chiron, as ancient and wise as he thought himself after his many centuries of life, reached an incorrect assumption and chose an equally incorrect decision that would alter the course of the world. Hoping to ease the child, Chiron began to segue into a different direction to rid himself of the child.

'The child is obviously of no importance,' Chiron imperiously thought, 'If his parent is unknown to him. I have no use in my crew for someone without the strength of an Olympian.' But the age old centaur was not that cruel. He would aid the child, as he had many others. And information alway helped. Well … it would not help the boy. It would help Chiron, in case the boy ever came prominence. It would turn the boy against the gods. And even then, he could possibly sway the boy back under his care. Then, it the boy was powerful, he could aid in his goal for his crew's future. In the meantime … "I am sorry for my outburst, dear child. Come with, boy."

Trotting off into the plaza in which he and those under him had gathered and were now preparing for the night, he watched the young boy. The child was definitely strong willed, with the aura of a lone wolf. The boy likely had to fight on his own for a few years until now … he looked about thirteen years of age. Perhaps fourteen. His eyes were keen, an expressive green that took in the details of the area around him, of fellow children around his age give or take five years set up for the night.

"So, my dear boy, what do you know of the Prophecy?"

Startled out of a stupor, the child he had been so carefully watching replied with the utmost degree of intelligence. "Huh?"

Well … perhaps too focused then. If the boy wasn't careful … "Walk with me, dear boy, not behind me. I am about to tell you something of much importance. First, I am bringing you to somewhere to clean yourself and get some supplies. As it is, Arthur, I am rather unfortunately unable to accommodate you here with my people. You, of course, understand why?"

The gritty child nodded, obviously eager to get cleaned up. Was it too obvious by how Chiron hadn't even acknowledged his nod before continuing that the centaur did not wish him to be here any longer? Maybe the boy had even realized it was futile to fight him, whether the reason for dismissal and removal was legitimate or not. Meanwhile, Chiron began his lecture.

"Anyway - we should finish up before we reach the cleansing area - I need to tell you the rest of the important information I have in mind. Many believe that why the camps were disbanded because of World War II. You surely know of how there were once camps, dear boy? Yes, all demigods do. However, that is not the case - or not the only case. You see, shortly before the battles ended, the last known prophecy was given by the Oracle of Delphi, before the spirit disappeared. Coinciding with what a few Romans could decipher from fragments of their Sibylline Texts, the gods cross referenced said pieces with our full foretelling. There are even rumors that this prophecy led to the destruction or hiding of the spirit of the Oracle."

They were now approaching a YMCA, the large letters glowing neon in the darkening sky. The clever manipulation of Mist by some of his better demigods always did well hiding them from mortals and covered large areas for the Greeks to temporarily stay at. The child seemed extremely eager to cleanse himself, so Chiron chose now to say the words that weren't folly, before he lost all attention that he still had from the boy.

The centaur haughtily intoned:

**By utmost divine purpose the gods shall fall,**

**And creatures once known will from hell crawl.**

**Monsters' last fight and demigods' last stand,**

**Total war to come only by ancient command.**

**The lawbreaker roaming the earth heart broken,**

**Future arises from bodies of immortals and men.**

"When Zeus heard this, they broke apart our camps. Now the Greeks under me have to fight constantly, facing the dangers of old. It is odd, how some have never learned they cannot fight fate. They simply want to fight what is to come, as they do not know what may occur past such! They worry, never having learned their lesson, sitting up there in their thrones! I hope you do well with this information, boy not named Arthur. I expect you to be off by tomorrow."

Seeing that the boy swallow noticeably, realizing that his ploy at hiding his name was not altogether successful, the boy rushed off, getting away before Chiron could imply another threat. And with that, Chiron left.

* * *

**Percy's Take on the Author Notes…**

**Give him a moment, please, he's still reading. Reading out of the corner of the eyes cannot be good for you. Is he starting? Oh, pay attention now.**

So this author … would like to say sorry? Hang on a minute, this guy's writing is messy as hell.

**Please. I try my best.**

To what? Write messily?

**Hey!**

Kill me.

**I might.**

But you won't. Anyway, he's sorry for discontinuing the previous iteration of this tale. Though since editing, he's put up a poll about it. Go see it if you wish. But apparently for that one, beyond personal problems, he actually didn't plan out where that one would really go. And he felt like his writing was improving at a rate that couldn't be matched by previous chapters, and did not want to keep re-writing. But see the poll.

**And also that the concept of half-monsters was horribly thought out. And see the poll.**

He'd also like to call out thanks to whoever called him lackluster. paradoxed is completely aware of that and kinda trying to fix it. You are, right? He's planning to finish this too.

**Um … yes. Totally. And finishing, yes unless I die. Might take a few years.**

Anyways, the next update will take a bit of awhile due to paradoxed soon to be playing at Carnegie Hall! Yay. And school ends tomorrow. And … wait, why am I to be with Artemis?

**Hush, dear child. In time. Please favorite, review, volunteer to be a beta. Updated 6/10/15. Edited 7/8/15**


	3. KoK V1 C2

"The only way to have a friend is to be one." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

Thunder pealed, and the sound akin to that of a tree falling broke out into the night sky full of shimmering alien constellations. A vast expanse of dead white grass was all that could be seen of the ground for hundreds of feet. Mist and fog weaved odd shapes, circling around what were perhaps large stone structures and preventing further vision; dust billowed from the direction of where the falling sound had occurred. Trickling down from the sky, odd black pieces littered the surrounding grass like splatters of blood. Some, curiously, melted into a viscous black tar, while others dissolved into black ash, and the rest simply crystallizing upon the earth. An spectral observer would be entranced by the curiosity of what was occurring.

The dead pale grass was checkered by the flecks of varying midnight substances. One could almost say the grass was being contaminated, poisoned, if it were not obvious that said grass was dead. Gradually, the noise often associated with rockfall or glacier break off roared across the expanse of dead grass, followed by the sound of a rolling avalanche. The fog cleared in a rush to reveal … nothing. Or rather … tracings, of objects unseeable by visible light but obviously _there_ due to the void of being able to see of whatever skyscrapers that should have been. A rush of earth rose from the origin of the sound, and the area erupted away to leave drifting blacks and whites, slowly gathering into twin tunnel of emptiness.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 2

Well, what I learned yesterday was certainly … what's the word … enlightening? Beyond learning that Chiron the ancient teacher has quite the ego, of course.

Anyway, back on topic. Um … prophecy! Predicting the future has always been a chore in history. Who was the guy … O-daiper? O-die-pus? Something stupid. Was prophesized to kill his father and marry his mother. So, father sends him away to die, but the kid gets found and lives in a different kingdom as an adopted kid under that kingdom's king. When he heard the prophecy, leaves to not kill his unknowingly not biological father to meet and kill his father, before marrying his mother and having kids with her. Lots of tragedy, and of whatever anti-gone.

But the way I see it, fate -

* * *

"Watcha doin?"

Percy's head snapped up. He'd been so engrossed in his writing that he had lost any peripheral awareness at the bench he was seated at - which was ironic, really, considering he could only really tell what he was writing though his peripheral vision. That might have been why? He'd need to -

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Percy shook himself out of writing mode completely. Now actually clean, a still disheveled sheaf of recently cut black hair hung over lightly sea tinted eyes. He sniffed lightly, mouth slightly agape as he tried to reassess the situation. It had been a long time since he had pretty much fresh supplies that were easily gotten access to. That along with the feeling of newer, not threadbare clothing adorning his body compounded by the novelty of writing, his attention had drifted off a tad too far.

"Is there something wrong with you, boy?"

Like it still was now.

Just as intelligently as he had responded to Chiron the previous night, he replied, "Oh, um … hi?"

The girl that approached him was quite odd. Ginger - that was automatically a disadvantage in almost every camoflauge situation. She had a pretty yet easily forgettable face unless one specifically tried to take note of her - which Percy did. She wore normal everyday street clothing too, further enhancing her mundanity (excluding the obtrusiveness of her hair).

If there was anything really distinct about her though, it was most definitely how she straight out approached him. The girl looked his age, but didn't seem to be half crazy or super focused like most kids he met. Hell, Percy himself was a bit strange, social outcast.

"Hi! Name's fricken Aly. Yours?" The girl bubbled brightly, in contrast to her coarse language. Her somewhat stringy maroon hair flounced around, hanging just past her shoulders. She sauntered closer to Percy, who was still slightly dumbfounded by the attention as he with utmost care placed his pen and journal away in his bag.

"Al-ley? Like the side street? Must have had interesting parents," he countered with excessive snark, still watching the girl with a mild discontent of her approach.

"Noo, no, A-l-y! I just took on my own damn name. It means noble! Those three little shit letters! Isn't it just wonderful? And … well, I suppose my mom was an interesting parent, since the name she gave me was even more bloody weird."

There was only so many ways to respond to a semi-raving girl that was cursing with a smile. "Um … sure?"

"Bloody fricken well damn sure," the girl casually blew out as she collapsed onto the ground next to Percy. As much as it sounded it could hurt, they were conveniently in a rather grassy park. A rather loose satchel laid at her side, which earlier he could not see very well due to it being hidden behindby her body.

"Any reason for all the cursing?" Percy voiced his growing thought, leaning away from the flamboyant girl.

"Any reason you haven't told me your name yet, pussy?" The casual retort was measured by the lightness of her tone. "And am I right in assuming you were kicked out from the idiotic Greeks yesterday?"

Percy blinked. Well, it was kinda obvious she wasn't a normal kid and likely a demigod. But it was most definitely not normal for someone to outrightly insult one of the stronger demigod groups - especially still being quite close to the crew.

"You can hold off on your likely dumpster worthy name, twat. I was just looking for a potential ally around here. Since you don't seem to be very open …" The girl rolled over and pushed herself up, and in the act of striding off to the right -

"Why are you by yourself, possible ally Aly?" If she was going to be cursing at him so much, Percy was sure as hell going to give her wordplay.

"Ah, there we go, you geek! Just talk! Be friendly! Show off some of your incredibly weak stand up comedian jokes!" Aly crowed victoriously, turning around and sliding onto the bench next to Percy. "I was another toss out from those Graecae fricks for being an odd Roman descent. What about you?" She shook her head, realising she'd jumped too far ahead. "Wait. Can you even name all the Olympians?"

"Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Demeter, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Ares, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes, Dionysus, and an obligatory toss out mention to Hades and Hestia for being Olympian worthy," Percy counted off, using his fingers. Sometimes it was easy to forget which ones you haven't named yet.

"Well, good enough then," sulked Aly, "It's clear you're another Greekie. Must mean you're some weakling, then, if they dumped a Greek down."

"However, they notably are Zeus, Juno, Poseidon, Demeter, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Mars, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Hermes and Mercury, Bacchus, and again Pluto and Hestia. Demeter, Aphrodite, Hephaestus, and Hestia are pretty much interchangeable with their Roman counterparts." Percy reiterated, this time counting down fingers.

"Well, at least you have enough brains to know which aspect they like to be in," complimented the redhead backhandedly, "I could see us being allies already! So, out of the dominantly Greek ones, who do you think is my Roman parent?"

"Well, I doubt Jupiter. Just being that strong they'd keep a hold of you just to trade to Romans for whoever they captured." He adjusted the straps his bag, which he had yet to do since receiving it from some son of Athena named Malcolm that blindfolded him before leading him away.

"Huh. That's actually pretty uncommon info. Where'd you learn that from?" Percy watched as she reached into her bag and pulled out a water bottle, taking a long swig.

"The Thief Lord himself. He was bragging about stealing the payment that was due for a some blond Jupiter kid, then cheesing more money some punk girl for that information. Made an easy two hundred drachma, apparently."

"Wow! You've met him?! I've heard he's pretty damn cute! Could you introduce me?" Her eyes twinkled mischieviouslymischievously. Ugh, really?

"His breath stinks. Anyway, back on track, what parents out of the Olympians that remain are Athena, Apollo, Artemis, and Poseidon. I will bet my soul that Minerva has long faded, and Artemis/Diana being a virgin goddess she's out. Not that I really understand Athena having children though. So that just leaves Apollo - also conveniently named Apollo in Roman mythology," Percy deduced as he rifled through the contents of his bag. Three pairs of t-shirts, one pair of jeans, two pairs of shorts, three pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks (nice!) - not including what he was wearing, Chiron was pretty generous.

"Smart kiddo, you are. Maybe we should partner up, yeah?" Aly smirked, not exactly kindly but full of humor and delight. There was also something else Percy could see expressed in the redhead's brown eyes though. It was edgy, almost … desperate.

Percy considered two things - the new toiletries in his bag and his options. After a few seconds of fidgeting, he made an extremely rash promise. "I swear upon the Goddess Styx to bear witness on our pact - that with this oath and handshake, I and the other shall not ever betray the other, regardless of how long our partnership is."

With no one ever telling the Son of Poseidon that such oaths were not one to swear carelessly, the boy said as he did. All he really knew was that the oath was quite binding. Gods who broke it were denied ambrosia and nectar for a year, and only able to drink from her waters. They were also prohibited from attending meetings with other immortals during that time for another 9 years after that. At least, that was what he'd read in a library his mom once brought him to. And so, the sound of a melodic river flowed eerily through his mind, the source from whence it came unknown.

Aly cocked her head and laughed, saying, "Clever boy, choosing to not use my fricken name for the pact." The girl took his hand, then shuddered, likely hearing the exact same merry gurgling of the undead river of broken dreams.

**The great goddess Styx recognizes this pact.**

Both demigods shuddered in the clear warm day. The sheer aura of the voice that the great river emitted was incomprehensible. It would almost be ironic, swearing an oath upon a river of broken dreams and promises - if it were not for the fact that it was only because of so many unkept promises that the river was like such. Styx was not a weak goddess by any means, being charioteer of Zeus in the battle against the Titans.

However, neglect for so long and swearing pacts only upon her status of a river had kept her weakened and angry. No one recognized her anymore, except for the semiannual visits from the widely agreed compassionate immortal to ever be on the Olympian council, Hestia. The Olympians ignored the obligatory drinking of her waters if they broke an oath sworn upon her. And they refused to not attend meetings, for they feared loss of standing amongst themselves and missing important information that could lead to profit or gain in power. It was only by unimaginable luck and Percy's mis-remembering of the version he had once heard someone else swear that the goddess came to visit.

For if she got any chance to become powerful again, she would take it.

**The great goddess Styx recognizes this pact and bequeaths tokens of strength, to be kept only if said pact is never broken and only if said tokens are used in Styx's name. So mote it be.**

The river roared, the melody and harmony of the river lost in the sheer strength of the unmitigated flow of the water of the Underworld. Percy could hear the stream, crashing along the polluted banks of the river, papers tearing, metals liquefying, and plastic melting. The lost souls of the river were being forced to use their energy to forge weapons for the duo, on par if not above the two known Styxian materials of Ice and Iron.

Steel. Natural bronze, gold, and iron fall short of the strength of steel, formed by iron mixed with a tad of carbon. While Celestial Bronze, Imperial Gold, and Stygian Iron were all actually of near equal strength due to the magics imbued, they would fall short of the raw power of the Stygian Steel. With the proper added magics, the material could become much more powerful than other demigod weapons.

Not that Percy knew, of course.

The shivering left the two now permanently bonded allies, their strange handshake unnoticed by a homeless woman waking from her bedroll. As Percy pulled his hand back, Aly spoke. "Well, if I wasn't going to partner up with you before, and not sworn to have to, I would definitely now if all this damn stuff usually happens to you."

Percy cringed, trying to understand what his new partner was saying. "Wait. So if you weren't bonded with me now, you would definitely do so now? What are you even saying?"

"Well … I guess if we didn't do that little weird ass handshake of ours I wouldn't have learned just how much of a special cookie you are." ceded Aly, clearly in her own strange world.

Percy rubbed his shoulders, still slightly confused. Rolling his eyes and giving up on it whilst Aly still seemed to be considering some strange mental issue, the boy continued to inspect the contents of his now substantially heavier bag. Reaching into a back pocket, he yelped as he touched an ice cold metal rod. "Ah! What the hell?"

The girl next to him brought herself out of her funk, and peered over into the new black backpack. "Clothing, toiletries, give or take a few hundreds in mortal cash, ten drachma, and a metal rod? That's the usual haul from the Greeks kick outs, excluding the metal - WHAT THE BLOODY *%^& $ #!?"

Percy had pulled out the foot long rod while the redhead was speaking, leading to her loud exclamation. The rod had then glowed momentarily, then twisted at its midway, followed by extending another foot on each end. Both sides had then split away from where it twisted, one somehow molding into an approximately foot and a half long knife and the other continuing to grow until it was by itself two and a half feet long. The green-eyed boy had kept his hold on the pole, but the knife had extended towards Aly's side of the bench before dropping and now stood quivering, blade point embedded a few inches in the ground. He spoke almost nonchalantly, "I guess this is my gift from the goddess?"

"HOLY SHIT, THEN WHAT DID I GET?" The girl squealed before diving into the contents of her rather small satchel. "IT BETTER BE A REALLY COOL WEAPON TOOt better be a really cool weapon too!. ALTHOUGH THAT POLE LOOKS FRICKEN STUPIDThat pole kinda looks pretty fricken stupid to me! Oh, by the way, the bag is magical. Just something from my dad. And you still haven't told me your name. And -"

Percy merely watched as Aly pulled out a sack of coins. The bag alone would have to take up half the space of the satchel she carried. Then a plastic bag full of shirts. Then another plastic bag containing shoes. Then another full of skirts. Jeans. Socks. Canned foods. Instant noodles. Gum. Then a bag full of bags. Magical indeed.

Finally she ceased, having pulled out the equally icy cold steel of her gift. It was … also a metal pole. That wasn't glowing. That wasn't changing. "Are you f**-" was launched from her mouth before it too also glowed, extending and reshaping into …

"A flute?" Percy asked, "Daughter of Apollo for sure. But why a flute … ?" He trailed off, watching the girl closely.

What was that shimmering by her eyes? Was she … crying? Her legs were drawn up to the bench, knees tucked under her chin. Her right arm hugged around her legs, the hand propping her left elbow, and that hand was propping up the extremely well crafted flute (lots of lovely etchings of some time of flowers along the entire body) at eye level. The delicately held beautifully shining flute, however, was impeding Percy's view of Aly's eyes, and the boy adjusted slightly on the bench to see brown irises seeming to stare into the void, swimming in liquid yet not losing any clear salty fluid.

"Are you alright, Aly?" Percy wasn't exactly sure on how to approach the girl who had unexpectedly teared up next to him. Beyond not having expected to tend to the initially joyous and frivolous girl, he also had never really needed to comfort anyone. No friends to comfort, and beyond what he read in fiction books he only remembered vaguely what his mother once did to relax him when he was flustered. What the hell, may well try.

Percy tentatively scooted over and brought an arm over her shoulder. He thought she would lean away and swipe away her tears then return to how she had been earlier. Yet against his expectations, Aly simply leaned in and rubbed her tears into the faux leather material of the jacket he was wearing. Considering as most demigods could never stand to be seen as weak - monsters smell your fear, after all; and other demigods would consider you beneath them - it was definitely another surprise for Aly to embrace him.

Maybe females were more emotional? Probably. Girls were crazy.

"You can't betray me, so …" she whispered quietly, reverting back to how he had first met her, speaking joyfully, "Never mention it again!" She continued to snuggle into him though.

Definitely crazy.

"I'm Perseus," spoke the boy softly, at a loss of what really to say with Aly's outburst. Might as well answer her earlier question and actually tell her his name. "Percy for short." Thinking back on it, swearing on the Styx was really stupid, her not even knowing his name. She wasn't just crazy. Aly was bat-shit insane.

Aly giggled softly, before beginning to laugh somewhat maniacally, as she muttered, "Destroyer! Hah! How cute!" The ginger wiped away her remaining tears with her hands, smearing them upon Percy's clothing. Percy read once that a girl's tears had chemicals that made men react stupidly. Maybe that was why he was still hugging the asylum worthy patient?

Percy frowned as he let go of Aly quickly to lean down and pick up his new knife, before Aly pulled him back up to snuggle to his side. Was she starved of human contact or something? Well … technically he was too. Percy couldn't remember anything more than a quick tap or touch since maybe two years ago, and even that was just a faint warm memory. Both were temporarily startled when the rod or club component of Percy's weapon flew up to magnetize to the knife, both melting into each other and reverting into a single rod once more.

Both reacted noticeably less when Aly's flute also changed back into what it once was. Well … Aly was still giggling quite hysterically, the picture perfect mad girl from some crime scene. Good lord, Percy had yet to pray or sacrifice to his own father after two years on the run, but he made a quick wish to Poseidon that all girls weren't as nuts as Aly was.

However, he later fell into the same humorous mood that Aly was in. Of course, it was much later in the day - so late, in fact, they were both turning in for the night for the first time as partners together. They had snuck into some Ikea, with Aly still constantly giggling and staying close to him, teasing Percy with the most curse words the boy had ever heard.

At first they had decided to stay in different 'rooms,' but within 30 minutes Aly had found it too unnervingly far, apparently, and joined him on his chosen bed. Luckily, it was king-sized and they used their bags to make a barrier in between them, but somehow the Daughter of Apollo had found a way to snag his arm and drool onto it whilst sleeping.

Percy could only laugh lightly as he considered the day, a warm wetness coating his arm. He had supplies from the Greeks. He found a partner, one he had known for maybe 12 hours, but someone he knew he could trust - would have to trust, maybe, but could trust. He had a proper weapon now, not some old metal club to defend with. The knife balance had felt perfect in his hands, when he had held it.

And he had finally told someone about one of his biggest secrets.

Aly had eventually disentangled herself, and being more familiar with the environment dragged Percy and their things to a nearby bus stop. They had sat there, watching the clouds of a still, cloudy. winter. With the element of an elephant dropping out of the sky playing piano (that is to say, surprise), Aly's stomach had rumbled with a sound the scale of an elephant crashing onto the earth squashing a piano (that is to say, loudly). The insange girl had merely giggled once more, before sitting up and pulling up a practically dozing Percy.

The Son of the Sea, then, had slapped himself lightly to shake away his drowsiness before finally answering her earliest questions. "I was writing when you first found me. If you mean home by coherent, now I am. And there's definitely something wrong with me. And you. And everyone, really. That good enough?"

But the clever girl had noticed a discrepancy in their earlier talk. "Final questions. When you were deducing my parent, how did you eliminate the Earthshaker, ya piece of sod?" Aly had queried.

"Because I think I'd know if I met a blood sister." There was no reaction yet, but it would come.

"Huh. Okay. And where in Pluto are we going for lunch?" Just not very soon.

Percy had waited for her to understand him. He had practically read the reaction already. In 3 … 2 … 1.

"How the bloody f*%& $ hell in Hades did the Greeks let go of a Son of Poseidon?"

"We'll talk at McDonald's. Come on."

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 2 (Cont.)

But the way I see it, fate is definite, but the path there isn't. Not all things are important, but some events will come to occur no matter how anyone acts. I've best read it as this. Imagine that no matter what, you will be run over by a train. You could be in a car and drive through the warnings, get killed. You could follow the driving rules, get back-ended and pushed onto the tracks. Try to get out, your feet get stuck or your laces trip you. No matter what, you turn into hamburger meat.

Who knows what's important or not? We're just going along in our weaving that the Fates give us. But … I believe I was fated to meet Aly.

* * *

In an undefinable period of time later, the process was complete. On one side sat a creature of such intense darkness, that put next to any light source, would not look like a being at all. Instead, the humanoid _thing_ would appear photoshopped out of reality, an absence of light so great that it tore apart the space it took. Coincidentally, across it sat a being that emitted a light so great it would seem as if stars did not emit light at all. It was so strangely contained, that the light did not completely keep all from being blinded. They were brother and sister, if anyone could believe that such opposites were. And they were not even enemies, but worked in tandem. Darkness and Light. Male and female. Ugly and beautiful. Contaminated and pure. Shallow and deep. Stupid and smart. Optimistic and pessimistic. Unpredictable and predictable. Sane and insane. Only one goal in mind, as they played their odd little game that sat between the two. It did not matter who won, as long as the pieces did their part.

**It is funny how the boy does not realise how correct he is.**

_You just love doing as you do, don't you brother? It's gotten so hard to control your insane tangents as it is._

**No, sis, it is you that is insane, trying to control that which is beyond your complete control. If you could be satisfied not letting everything and everyone go into their little places …**

_Well, I am ok with it. Only because it's you doing your little screwups, brother. You have helped take care of me over the years._

**Well, his thoughts on fate is just like our little fun, eh? The chaos of choice that still, no matter what -**

_Inevitably falls into the Fates' orders._

A piece, the shape beyond the description of only width, length, and height, shimmered a sea green at the center of the playing field. Center was much harder to define, of course, in a plane of existence with far more than three dimensions. A baby turquoise colored thread shot from the piece and attached itself to another, which was immediately teleported into a position next to the original piece.

All around the playing field, playing pieces turned to face the center, being drawn in at infestimately slow speed, but drawn in nonetheless.

* * *

**Aly's Take on the Author Notes…**

**She seems to be a better reader. Do Romans get ADHD?**

Can I know my damn name yet? Seriously, you give me the name Aly but it's not even the one I was fricken born with! I know it's cool! It better be cool! It is cool, right?

**Apparently they do. Finish the Author Note and you'll know soon.**

Freaking god forsaken little piece of crap author, paradoxed is.

**I object.**

Don't care. Anyways, apparently this guy was inspired by some idiot review responses and had me in mind already. It just flowed out, apparently. Idiot.

**I object.**

YOU TOLD ME TO SAY THAT BLOODY STUFF.

**No, I object to you calling me an idiot.**

THEN BE MORE SPECIFIC, YOU TWAT.

**Spare me. 'Aly means noble.' Not even your name, and you take so much pride in it! It only came from a long hunt for a suitable name across baby-naming websites! Anyssa for purity in Greek, into Alyssa, sanity in Greek. You're as hell not pure nor sane!**

SAY WHAT?

**What. Anyways, the next chapter may not come for a while. I'm on vacation. Fate part is taken from Nick Gautier series.**

TELL ME MY NAME.

**You know what? I also said this to Percy. Hush, dear child. In time. ****Please favorite, review, volunteer to be a beta. ****Updated 6/12/15. Edited 7/9/15**


	4. KoK V1 C3

"An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools." -Ernest Hemingway

* * *

Perpetual twilight.

It was clearly not earth, but at least the sky was visible, if one could consider such an atrocity as visible. Said bastardization of the sky was strange, an interwoven tapestry of the most vivid Night and variable Day, where Darkness and Light reigned equally. The stars lit the Heaven, but what could be considered day and night were not supplied with any obvious source of light; there was no moon; no sun. The Earth was not alone in its lingering slumber, as all Water and the Sea ran erstwhile across the world. All things of Nature grew throughout, Created to be the Life to rule and exist - for Fate would draw them deep within, where the Underworld yawned; its only purpose was to consume all, yet all would be left to the heartbeat of Time that reverberated through the alien landscape.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 54

Time flies, doesn't it?

How has it already been a year? Well, basic math - 52 weeks in a year, and since those first two entries I've only been writing weekly. Some guy named Eugene had seen me poised to try to write something, but not able to. So the guy snuck up on me while I was writing - Aly's laughing at me. I was totally peripherally aware, the guy was just remarkably stealthy while I jotted down my entry last week. No matter what she says, I'm totally attentive when I write. Well … fine, I wasn't then but I sure am now.

Anyway, the guy told me that since I was at a lost to what write, it would be better to do as he said he does himself. Only write a list or an itinerary of the day's more important events and only write journals once a week. Considering how bored I was already of writing journals (there's only so much introspection I can tolerate without going nuts), it seems to be working pretty well. Really hard to get interesting stuff to fill something worthwhile writing every day.

Aly - still haven't gotten her real name out of her, for all the wheedling I attempted for the past year - and I have gotten pretty close, I think. She's confessed a lot of other secrets to me, so she's said. Things she's never had the chance to tell anyone before, and such. I've already written them down before, but it'd be easier to compile them all in one place. They really don't feel like secrets sometimes, though. More simply that she'd never had the chance to open up to someone properly before. I think that everything she's told me she would have told anyone who would become her friend. She's been cursing less, too. It's progress.

Of course, I've been the only one crazy enough to stick by her. She had failed to properly start up previous partnerships a few times because a few people she tried to with weren't curious enough to take the baits that she dangled, or were too offended by the constant cursing. She had been there for about four months, looking for someone worth traveling with.

But nonetheless, what she considers secrets are as follows. She doesn't know why Apollo was in his Roman form Apollo for her birth. Not sure why this one counted, considering how little we wee little demigods will ever understand our divine parents. She doesn't seem convinced that it isn't important, though. Maybe because it sets her out from all the other Sun kids? Admittedly, in both of our times alone going through different crews of demigods, we've never heard of another Roman Apollo kid. Not sure if it makes her that much special, though, only that she knows Latin instead of Ancient Greek.

Another secret was that her mother literally dropped her off in an orphanage a year after she was born. That sounded bad - but, well, it was actually an orphanage in a really nice district and she had a decent education. At least her mother gave a decent attempt at finding a nice place for her daughter, even if that doesn't atone for not bringing up Aly herself. Left money, left for Aly under her real name that I still don't know. She doesn't seem a bit resentful over it, so I figured she doesn't have any issues about it.

We've encountered quite a bit since our partnership, I suppose. There was a few struggles leaving Greek territory against other small groups of demigods, and we ran into a band of centaurs. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but just something about the Nevada Chapter and partying. Then, on a nature spree, some satyrs managed to pull Aly into some mad dancing that took me a while to get her away from before they went Bacchus or Pan. Took quite a few deep whiffs of us, and some guy named Hedge of all things tried to bring us even further in. That's the only reason I remember that event so clearly.

Originally I would never have considered traveling north during winter, but with easy storage in Aly's bag (which, in another secret, was actually stolen from a temple to Apollo,

and is binded to return to her if she gets to far away from it - the moment she said blood magic, I decided I didn't want to know more), cold weather clothing isn't as much of a problem. It's not too terribly difficult to steal supplies, Aly knows a few tricks with the Mist to save our money. Went through some monster territory and got quite a bit of practice fighting, avoided meeting some guy named King JB. I do hope they didn't mean Justin Bieber, I don't know what to think if that guy is a demigod.

But nonetheless, Aly and I have been getting along quite well. Her birthday is actually pretty close to my birthday, hers being August 1st. We decided to share a pie then, it was easier to keep around than a cake. We've sparred quite a bit, but she definitely prefers long range fighting while I prefer short range. We've set up a few safe boxes for supplies and backup weapons in major cities we passed through. Notably LA, San Diego, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Sacramento,Portland, Olympia, and Seattle. Olympia had this one temple …

Meh, have I missed anything? Passed by Glass Beach so I had any noteworthy powers from the sea. Didn't really feel much, but could manipulate small amounts of water to do what I want. Not sure how useful that is at the moment. Also picked up a bunch of sea glass, I think it's a decent hobby to try to find the beautiful rounded out glinting glass in the sands (though at Glass Beach there was just so much).

Earlier this week I had accidentally left my weapon behind, which had then teleported back to me. Not forgetting it again, I usually keep it in an easily accessed pocket in my backpack so it doesn't freeze to me, but it was a mighty shock for the steel rod to appear in my pants pocket. And in that vein, I'm still not sure how to spread fear in Styx's name or however she said. Eh. Maybe soon.

* * *

"Any idea where to go next, brat?" lolled out Aly from a rather awkward position. She was dangling upside-down in a hammock that she had set up between branches of a single worn and weathered oak about 15 feet up. Percy, on the other hand, had already put away his sleeping bag, which had been tied to a large branch overnight.

"You are barely older than me, Aly. I think that the usage of brat really only applies when someone much older uses it on a much younger person," her companion equally lazily countered, leaning on the trunk sitting a rather thin branch just by the redhead. He was cutting his nails with a nail clipper he had nicked from a store in California. After having broken his rather long fingernails in a chase from a group of Greek girls, likely of Ares and/or Athena, he had resolved to always keep his nails cut close, just to keep such from happening again. Aly bit her nails, so it wasn't really any issues for the girl.

"Well that's a pity, Perce," drawled the girl as she snapped close Percy's dogeared dictionary, "I'm really running out of things to call you. I suppose I could always dig through the Shakespearean insult book you picked up as a joke." The redhead pulled out a water bottle sharply along with a pack of gum from her deceptively small bag. "If you answer my question, I'll give you gum?"

"To get breakfast. And you should really get down first," said the Son of the Sea from below her, having dropped down his bag and descended.

Aly's bag was basically a mobile pantry and wardrobe. Aly had yet to find a limit, but it wasn't the most efficient of satchels. There were two main pouches each divided into food and clothing. She couldn't see into the bag, though, and everything would get jostled as she moved. In short, it was a really bad idea to try to get anything if one was under pressure. On the plus side, she had yet to discover whether there was a maximum capacity for storage. That had led to stocking up on non-perishable foods and clothing. There were two more practical normal pockets, which Aly one to carry her transforming flute and the other contained small amounts of on-hand cash and snacks.

The snacks were pretty much … well, some chips and such but mostly lots of gum. There wasn't any particular flavor preference, Aly just wanted something to distract her. Just constant snaps and bubbles whenever she could. Her favorite way of getting gum before meeting Percy was to swipe it off any people that the Greeks dumped away - which happened very often, and was quite simple to do after realizing the Greeks left gum in the bottle holder part of the give away backpacks. It really wasn't too long until Percy also began to chewing the elastic material too, if only for the sake of it.

Though Aly did catch Percy trying to learn how to blow bubbles with it.

"Dear gods, Aly," Percy muttered as he leaned far to the right to catch the piece that the lass dropped. His venture was successful as he lightly plucked away the wrapped pink piece of flavor from the air. Aly watched as he, instead of unwrapping the gum, pocketed it. "It's a beautiful morning, and we need breakfast. Unless you aren't hungry?"

Aly tittered lightly. "Well, we're still a few bits out of Hailey. I reckon that this gum can last that long, and what's the bet we run into some kinda monster? Though I can probably never say how much I do like all the scamming tactics that you've learned from your time with the Thief Lord. It combined with mine works quite well."

Aly quickly descended, quickly pulling away at the knots on the ends of her hammock and haphazardly dropping it into the food storage area of her bag, before walking nimbly hopping down branches to the ground. If she weren't so light, she likely would have broken several branches.

"Any stupid long -term plans though?" She queried as she began to head out of the large park they had spent the night in, towards where they already knew was an IHop, having been there before. She whistled jauntily, pulling out a few pennies and tossing them into the air with one hand, while the other busily thread a dollar around her fingers; her bag also bounced in time with the loud tune, one she had picked up from who knew where.

Percy fell into line next to her, briefly inspecting the road before jaywalking across with his year long associate. They both entered to find the restaurant completely full, except a table for four that only had a dozing teenager almost laying on his pancakes. "You don't mind if we join that guy?" Percy asked the receptionist as he eyed Aly's twenty dollar bill and mess of quarters. Aly only smirked mirthfully, changing from whistling to humming.

"Not at all," the likely college student working for money replied as she picked up two menus and slid through the table arrangements to the corner, where the teen lay snoring. "He's been here for a half-hour already, said he was waiting for a girl that still hasn't shown yet."

Aly peered at the menu, ordering her pancakes with a swiftness only known to those who desired to drizzle diabetic sugar onto layers of stacked brown patties. Aly, eyeing the leaving waiter that took Percy's always order of his (naturally) blueberry pancakes and her strawberry pancakes, inspected the sleeping teen. Curly black hair, fairly tall, rather messy. Likely hungover, by the looks of it, and not going to overhear his conversation. She was turning back to face Percy, having sat next to the unknown boy, when the Son of the Sea said, "I was planning to travel around a bit more, but I definitely want to establish some kind of permanent base. Any places you know of that would be ideal?"

The ginger tsked in a light manner, tapping away at the table with the handle of a butter knife. "Ideally, there's been quite a few fricken places I've been to in North Dakota that seem fit for what I imagine as a safe house. In fact, I've already stored some small weapons there. Does that work?" she said with a lilt, tilting her head to watch a plate of steaming pancakes that she could tell was just for her.

The disappointed look on her face when she realized it was blueberry pancakes that would go to the boy at her opposite was one that Percy decided to notate in his journal, just to remember it better in the future if he ever looked back at his journal. As Aly opened her mouth to most surely curse (even if it occurred less often nowadays), another plate of food left the kitchen with the heady scent of strawberry and was deposited before her.

The duo ignored conversation and instead savored their pancakes as they dug in, pouring over thick maple syrup and gorging themselves upon the whipped cream topped towers. Half an hour later they were finished, and prepared to leave. As they were getting the bill, another redhead entered and immediately moved in their direction to seat herself across from the hungover curly haired teen. The girl's keen green eyes panned over everything, to rest upon the money that Aly left on the receipt to be taken. Eyes narrowing, the maybe preteen girl almost loftily asked, "Why did you only pay a dollar for an almost 20 dollar meal?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, -" Aly started, only to have "Elizabeth." interjected before Aly could continue. "Elizabitc-" Aly again tried to begin, only for Percy to cut her off with the question, "You don't see the twenty?"

Aly glowered at Percy. Pluto below, that would have been one of the best comebacks. The unrest and consequent slamming of fists onto the table courtesy of one daughter of Apollo led to the waking of the hungover teen. Red lips contrasted with blue eyes upon his pale visage and black hair, and the moan that was released with waking was accompanied by the gasp of the teen realizing he had food before him. The pancakes were quite cold, having sat there for almost an hour while he slept.

The three others at the boy's table, previously set to argue, were only immediately shamed into embarrassment by the messy eating of the newly awakened and clearly voracious boy. The new redhead was jolted out of the horrifyingly silent curiosity that bewitched each to view the gaping contents of the mashing motor mouth that seemed to comprised the entirety of the awakened male when the waiter picked up the check with a simple thanks. And the disappearance of the two other people at the table out the glass doors.

* * *

"Why did ttthey leave?" the black haired boy asked the apparently named Elizabeth, mouth still chewing through bits of fluffy pancake. "Was it sommmething I d-did?"

The redhead in her conservative skirt and t-shirt, the latter detailing Greenpeace, simply smiled instead of facepalming as many others would. Well, she did lean forwards to rest her elbows on the table and cup her freckled face with her hands, but it wasn't a facepalm. With the slight grin, she quietly teased, "Well, I imagine it was your lack of manners. It's not exactly polite to eat your food like that, you know." The disheveled black haired boy, finished with his breakfast, reached down to the seat to pull up a thermos, spinning off the cap quickly to access the sweet smelling crimson liquid within. Drawing up the container, he gulped and chugged away without spilling a single drop, staining his lips even further. "It also could have been how I questioned them paying for an about 15 dollar meal with only a dollar bill and a few pennies."

With a smack of the lips, Elizabeth watched as the boy exhaled, "Well, I thhhhink it might that they knew you didn't tell them yer name. Like, e-eeearlier, I he-heard my name. Do y-ya think they know everyooo-one's names?" The amount of sugar he consumed in addition to a likely natural hyperactive disorder led to the odd speaking slur.

"Maybe," the now apparently girl not named Elizabeth acquiesced, "I would suggest we find them, but I'm quite sure we'll meet them again."

The boy before her nodded with the speed of a cheetah - or leopard? However, such quick movements only caused dizziness, and he desperately avoided throwing up as he put his head down on the table to orient himself.

"And I want my pancakes right now, so just keep lying there," not-Elizabeth tutted.

* * *

"You'd think with how damn large the U.S. is, it'd be more difficult to run into fellow piece of crap demigods," commented Aly as she aggressively parried an Imperial Gold spear of a most likely Roman scout group leader with her Stygian Steel rod. "If you would distract these five sods for me, Perce?"

However, her partner Percy was only focusing on the three males that were trying to break through his guard. Ducking a spear - what was the Roman name for it? Pilum? - then grabbing it and pulling on it, he went to slice away the boy's arm, but had to retreat when the other two jabbed at him with their gladius. Gladii? "Bit busy here, Aly, two is less than three."

Indeed, Aly was merely weaving through the prodding spear of a glossy black haired girl with equally dark, piercing eyes. Finally ducking through, Aly brought around her metal bar and bashed into the gladius of the other female, who seemed half distracted manipulating plant life. The bar rebounded with calculated angle and force, and Aly spun around and clubbed the spear user in the head. "Well, I only have one fricken piece to my weapon and you have two! And I already got one brat, so deal with the other!"

The redhead, whose potty mouth seemed to have come back during combat, jumped back. Her metal rod lengthened into a marvelously crafted flute as she began to play, wisps of steam curling away from the insertion of warm breath into a cold interior. An airy melody floated through the air as Percy in front of her successfully sliced a deep gash into the weapon arm of one gladius wielding male, at the cost of the back of his shirt. She watched, still playing away as Percy reeled, pulling back to only face the pilum user male and plant weaving brown haired female as the remaining gladius user rushed to heal the large cut he inflicted on the other male gladius wielder.

Although Aly could not see it, Percy was smirking as he tossed his knife up into the air and catching it while spinning the metal bar of the other half in his hand. As his two remaining enemies warily approached, the redhead glimpsed a sleeping hogtied male archer behind the motley Roman crew, likely a Son of Apollo captive judging by bright blond hair. Aly almost broke her strain of music when Percy's wrist snapped out, tossing his knife which flipped end on end to meet the female between the eyes by the handle, knocking out half the leftover attack force.

The remaining male stood, eyes corpse cold and calculating as he considered his odds, the odd melody in his ears prickling away. The Daughter of Apollo could just see his brain ticking away, trying to understand what the pretty sounds were for. Perfect. The lightly traveling tone of the flute suddenly peaked in a sharp whistle, and the final remaining enemy dropped his weapon in agony in order to cover his ears, as the other trying to feed ambrosia to the cut up male also did much the same. The victorious girl stopped playing to cackle and gloat, "And I got the rest of the idiots!"

At least before noticing that Percy was also rolling around in pain. "Ah shit, I hit you partially too then?" the ginger groaned as she walked up to him and poked him, releasing the shuddering green-eyed Greek from her magical spell. It was both the illusion of pain that came from both the innate wrongness of her final note of music, and the sorcery straining through the melody that locked all but the strongest minds into a symphony of pain.

"Damn it, Aly! Aim better!" was the first thing that came cursing out of her friend's mouth as he struggled to rise, almost instigating a slight argument. Neither noticed as the nearby pilum user also rose, in pain but prepared to attack. However, the somewhat unhinged warrior quickly noted the 2 to 1 odds and made his decision. "I, Bryce Lawrence of the Romans, wish to negotiate for surrender."

Surprised, the dynamic duo turned to recognize the teen, who was still in the movement of standing. They both turned, Percy countering, "And that is?"

* * *

Bryce almost cackled at how the victor of the battle responded. It would be too easy to do exactly as he wished with such a willing enemy. They weren't Roman, thenhere was no way then - for Romans did not take surrender when victory was already achieved. He would just have to pretend to be sacrificing what seemed to be a lot while achieving his hidden goal.

"We are clearly defeated, but too numerous to capture and I find it unlikely that you will kill us when we have already lost. We are still obviously incapacitated," began the beady eyed boy as he gestured around his fallen group, "I propose that you take away our only prisoner and the fallen girl nearest to you," pointing out the tied blond archer behind the Romans and the first girl to be knocked out, the black haired girl.

"As Michael," gesturing to the other sound assaulted male behind him, "is a dedicated Roman soldier, Hank," motioning to the cut warrior, "is injured and likely will be a burden to heal if you are to take him, and Leila has powers that I'd rather not lose to other forces, I willingly surrender our Apollan prisoner and the rather disrespectful, badly trained Roman here. Surely we can make a deal?"

"And why would we want any untrained piece of shits to look over?" lolled out the redhead, who inspected the poker-faced enemy.

Well, he hadn't thought out that far ahead. "I'll give you half our stock in godly food. It's the best I can do. Please, spare us for our attack and allow us to return to the east coast," Bryce pretended to beg.

"Fine." Score. The fearsome boy he battled picked up his now former petite and light partner. The unconscious girl that Aly clubbed in the head was still out of it, and his foe walked over to wake the archer in Roman camp. Bryce momentarily considered springing upon the weaponless redhead, but seeing the how her brown eyes tracked his movements, he decided to follow his word and took out four ziplock bags of ambrosia and two canteens of nectar.

No real loss though. "My thanks," slithered out from Bryce's slowly growing grin as the winners of the fight pulled away from the battleground.

* * *

"So how many girls do you plan to pick up, Percy?"

"Shit! Where in the infinite holes of Tartarus did you come from, you soulless ginger!" cursed Aly, surprise bringing out her profanity.

Percy played with a nice amethyst necklace as he nicked from a store as he much more tactfully said, "That's my friend Aly, who is also a soulless ginger. Any reason you followed us from the IHop, Elizabeth?"

Indeed, just across the city the next day, they were once again meeting the red-haired, green-eyed girl for Greenpeace. The girl was distinctly dotty, a rather strange aura of surrealness that seemed to warp the air sat before them on a bench for a bus, her oddity only increased by the seemingly drunk boy laying on her lap drinking what smelled like concentrated diabetes. "Well, I didn't exactly follow you as go to where I knew you would go to next," exclaimed the girl happily as jostled her legs back and forth, upsetting the boy's resting position.

"And how were you aware of that?" Percy continued to investigate as he tightly gripped Aly in order to keep her from screaming out what was likely her own variant of Elizabeth's name that included dogs. It was hard enough to avoid drawing attention as it was, pulling along a now conscious yet still tied blond behind them to an ideal location to interrogate him and carrying the glossy black haired girl that was likely concussed to heal. Mortals were surprisingly accepting of the strangest things, if not basic things like gay marriage.

Seriously, when he learned of it not being legal, he decided it was good to be demigod if he didn't have to deal with stupid shit like homosexuality being wrong. His mother had taught him better, bless her soul.

"I'm the Oracle of Delphi!" the girl whom he believed to be Elizabeth claimed brightly. At Percy's sceptical face, she continued, "How else would I know your name, Percy?"

"Oh, I dunno, listening to me call that retard by that name coming over here?" Aly snipped, no longer deterred by Percy's painful grip on her arm.

"Well … then fine. My friend Dakota here said he heard his name spoken while he was half-asleep, and this is the east exit of the city, the most convenient place to bypass on the way to either North or South Dakota. It would be hilarious if his name was North, though, huh?" the girl continued almost undeterred, "I kinda told a lie to you earlier about my name, it's actually Rachel Elizabeth."

"And why are you here?" Percy finally got to the last question, shaking his head in slight confusion over the casual, bright, and otherworldly speech style of the new redhead.

"Oh! Well, you two seem powerful, but only a duo! Likely looking to create a group, since you two alone and so familiar with each other means that you've been together quite a while - longer than any group could possibly ignore without trying to recruit - and thus trying to make your own group. That is compounded by how you haven't dumped either of your two captives. Dakota and I would be much grateful if you could help us, as he's helped me get along the past few years after I ran away from home. We've also got a few safe houses established pretty much every capital of the NorthWest - that would really be a curious name now, huh? - so we can help."

"Well I suppose things are really moving along, Perce," sighed Aly, "This could work though. Let's sneak into that Hilton across the street? We'll need to talk more, and that's gonna take awhile. Oh, and you're in, fellow soulless human being."

* * *

It was the dream of those that still remained, those of primordial nature. After all, it was they who knew the sky was meant to be eternal night. They were the ones who knew that the light that fills it for about half a day on average is only a product of chance. For night and darkness existed before day and light, and so the world was created in the waters of salt and waters of no salt. The sky came into being, kissing the earth, just as much as the earth made love to the underworld.

But time, nor fate, nor nature, nor creation, nor life waited. Each wished to return the world as it was once, regardless of which of their compatriots stilled lived among them. The sky was murdered in an age long gone, and the earth had taken its own path. But primordial powers were not one to stop due to any small issue. The roaring seas may have been ruled by others, but it was created by them. The ever expanding underworld and the unending pit, the boundless skies and the fortress of earth. It would return to as it once was.

The nights were becoming darker, and the days lighter. The skies up in the far atmosphere were gathering, the sea currents of the far deep were churning, the molten depths of the earth were heaving. Turmoil boiled within the pits, the primal jungles grew once more, lakes and streams roared along with the natural life seemed to be fighting for its place once more. _In time_, it seemed to say, _as fate decrees_.

* * *

**Rachel's Take on the Author Notes**

**Are you actually going to do this seriously?**

Are you sure whether AN is Author's Note or Author Notes?

**I … haven't thought about it.**

Well, anyways, the author is sure about wanting to ask whether you peeps prefer more frequent updates but shorter length chapters, or less frequent updates with longer length chapters! He's too lazy to put up a poll, so either review your answer or pm him. If you don't care whatsoever, he's good with that too!

**Instead of appeasing people, I get to do whatever I want. Yay. So much easier.**

He's trying to be nicer, paradoxed is just so cute trying to satisfy readers.

**Yep. Wait, what?**

Hush, dear child. In time. Please favorite, review, volunteer to be a beta. Updated 6/19/15.

**Edited 7/10/15. Ha! I get the last word in, not you.**

Only because you had to rewrite the chapter. Shame on you.

**Uh … sigh, I got nothing for that.**

Down, boy. Hopefully the readers will be willing to give you favorites and follows and reviews if you're good enough.


	5. KoK V1 C4

"Knock, knock. Who's there? The moon. ... it's far away! You were alone the whole time! Ha ha ha!" -Diana

* * *

There was once an age where there was no enforcement of laws. It was not that there was no force policing the world, but that there were no laws to break. For it was impossible that any wrong could ever be committed.

From this age one daughter spawned epics, music, poetry, hymns, dance, tragedy, comedy, and astronomy - nine key inspirations to draw from. Another daughter brought about the key rivers of age and protectors of the waters, and another brought the dawn, hailing the sun and moon. Woman again became ancestor of medicine, of the hunt, and of magic itself. Another brought divine order, and the final birthed the gods of this world.

And with woman, man. The ruler of the eternal land surrounding river who fathered the wisest counselor; the watcher, wise, and bright with light; the bringer of constellations, father of power, destruction, dusk, wind, and star; the rationally intelligent wed with the prophetic; the piercing greatness of the warrior of mortality - patron of the endurer of the sky, of the fire-carrying forethinker, and hope-keeping past-watcher, of doomed might; and the great gloried king of them all, manipulator of the fourth dimension.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 100

Yay. Centennial entry. Dedication for the win.

It might be slightly concerning how unreactive our group is to insults. We don't really argue that much, actually, and get along very well. From the books I've read to alleviate boredom over the years, it seems quite strange to have such a cohesive group. We all have similar senses of humor, and while our actions may be exasperating and frustrating to deal with *cough cough Aly cussing *cough Dakota drinking *cough Rachel drawing ON EVERY SINGLE DAMN THING WITH THOSE STUPID MARKERS SHE FINDS. Um. *Cough *cough. But anyways, there's no big personality conflicts. Maybe because we're all a tad bit too jaded and quite similar over all. Maybe nothing is problematic because we haven't become an established group with a safe place to reside, and that I'm basically the leader even though I never planned to be.

I usually let Aly get everyone moving anyways. We've now got a few caches of supplies across the North, and Aly still carries the most important on the run material - non-perishable food, emergency clothing, toiletries, tent-making materials, all essential duct tape, and godly food. Each person generally carries their own clothing, but I trust Aly to carry mine in her magic satchel - I'd rather keep everything light so I'm prepared to fight. I keep the money and my journal. I've still got half of this journal left.

Manhattan is ok. It's been … two months now? One to get here, and two trying to look froor a good place to establish a base. For now we've gotten settled into stealing hotel cards to stay in hotels. I want to establish a safe base, but being so close to Olympus is unnerving. Also, huge scores of bestial monsters roam the streets at night - it's not safe. I would have said it was just me, but Lee caught sight of the Minotaur just in Central Park. It was charging down on us, and would have been in quite a lot of trouble if a dryad - think her name was Juniper - distracted the bull for us. Sure, we could have fought, but that would have definitely attracted attention in this monster infectedinfested city. I've heard rumors that there's been a solo forge worker that set up shop nearby for months in some borough. Brooklyn, I believe the satyrs that I overheard said. Maybe I can find this guy and he can help me and the others with finding a place. Just gotta head down Long Island, it'll definitely be a better place than Manhattan.

On current rumors, it's been said that there's a Saturn worshipping Roman group trying to get him to rise once again. Apparently the guy is the basis of the Saturday, and not so bad in Roman mythology. From what I know, considering the Titan Kronos was imprisoned by the current ruling gods, there's going to be a lot of trouble. Not to mention these guys are apparently traveling through the mystic Labyrinth. I've seen the apparent delta signs that open it - pointed out to me by a friendly mortal named Derek who wasn't aware of his clear-sight (apparently stays at home to play video games a lot) but knew that some kids had once touched it to enter some corridor. I'm definitely going to need to get my friends and I to this place that the Son of Hephaestus might have.

On one last surprise note, the Roman is still with us! I logged it into an earlier entry, but the fact Avila is still with us is a great surprise. Lovely girl, really, now that she's opened up a lot more. Only she and Lee don't get along, but she deciding sticking with us was the best course of action for her survival, as the Romans would probably throw her into the nearest river with a sack of weasels for being away for so long. Well, we're going to be leaving Manhattan today. Better give my respects to the most wonderful person I've ever known.

* * *

"So why here, ya sod?" Aly's tone was oddly flat, as Percy's mood was really quite somber. Considering all the good events that happened lately, he'd been happier than before. But at lunch, when he'd called everyone to pair up and visit the area one last time to get any souvenirs they wanted and meet there for 7 o'clock dinner, he'd just looked so wistful. No one said a word, even as Rachel dragged Lee over to try to sneak into a Broadway theatre to watch Aladdin, and the Roman trailed after Dakota towards what seemed like a toy store. Pier 63 was indeed an odd place to travel to. The small park was nice and all, and the view off the island was nice once one discounted the polluted Hudson river. ALly just quietly proceeded to pace along the railing by the water, while Percy sat on the railing looking out past the water.

"Did you know that my mother was never buried?" said Percy grimly. For the first time since Aly met him, Percy sounded like a broken child. "I don't really remember her too well anymore, actually. I remember blue, and lots of blue. Candy, sweet foods, she was an excellent cook. I remember that her parents died early and that she struggled along in life due to a sick relative. But I barely remember what she looked like, and only remember her voice when she told me about my father."

Percy sighed, before flipping around to face a now unmoving Aly, who leaned forward to look up at him. "I only left a few years ago. How is it that I've forgotten so much about her already?"

Aly had sympathy, really, but she was having trouble expressing it. She could only pull up to sit next to him and cuddle in close as Percy continued, "How is it that I remember her getting beat up by the asshole Gabe than anything else? She thought it would be for the best, she told me, for it would help mask my scent from all the night time horrors of Manhattan. She told me that when I was 8 - who I was, and why everything was so strange and difficult for me."

The redhead remained silent, a comforting warmth for the green-eyed lad who was tearing up as he continued to lay out his feelings bare to his companion of a year and a half. "She … she had given up a lot so much for me. Gabe was hitting her, and then when she hit the ground after a slap she stopped moving … and I blacked out. Next thing I had remembered was that I was in a different room, and that my mom was going to be tried for murder. She wasn't a violent person, but I remember going for a knife. She probably … she probably made sure she took the blame.

"The lawyer did his best, but the jury was fricken sexist. She helped me survive in so many ways. I ran away then, and visited every month, doing my best to just see her again. I was never let in. A year later, a cell mate killed her. I would've raided the prison when I learned about it … it was two years ago? It's been so long … the prison cremated her. It's not too far from here. I'm grateful to her for my life and all, for giving birth to me and saving me. But now I've really forgot about her, moving around everywhere with my life. And I have you now, too. And I feel troubled by that. Is it wrong to have moved on so easily?"

Aly watched as Percy blinked back his tears. Well, this was something she hadn't learned about him in the long time they'd been traveling together. She was silent for a minute, at which Percy began to get slightly nervous about. She eventually piped up, asking, "Do you remember when you met me?" At Percy's slowly nodding head, she pursued, "And my name?"

Since Percy was still nodding, she began her counter-monologue. "My name is actually Taia. Could be written T-é-a, but it's T-a-i-a. Probably so the orphanage people could pronounce it how my mum wanted it. And they left a last name, too. Joyce." Taia Joyce, she could see Percy mouthing, lips crinkled into an extremely soft smile.

"Do you know what Taia means, Percy?" Feeling the boy's head shake in their now intimate side embrace, she murmured, "My mum actually told me. She found me one day, brought me away from the orphanage and told me about the gods. She hadn't had the ability to raise me at the timewhen I was born or even then, but guess what? My name lies in the Greek word tree, meaning 'gift of god.' She knew that soon I would have to learn of the blasted world, so she told me everything she knew. She didn't abandon me, she just couldn't take care of me! I was so lucky, Perce. So lucky. But I don't remember her that well either. She just left me a note, saying she had to go, and I never saw her again."

It was certainly not the usual time of day that most confessions were made. It was not snowing with cherry blossoms from the World War I gift to the United States, nor was it a beautiful sunset with which the two could peer off to. But the duo could witness as parents led little children around the small grassy area, not with the utmost joy but definitely with love. "Family is important, Percy. When they care for you. But you also have to move on, after all that they give you. A mortal who was a really good friend of mine in the orphanage told me she didn't mind too much - she would have given almost everything to get her parents back from a car crash, but either way she would eventually become an orphan when her parents died of old age. Maybe she was a little different and optimistic because earlier in the day her adoptive moms - moms, two moms - learned sign language to help in adoption."

Percy was taken aback, surprised from the revelation she had told him. "So you got your pretty red hair and eyes from your mum?"

Aly finally sat up to turn and stared at him impassively. "Yes."

Percy tickled his chin. When was he going to become hairy from puberty?. He would have to get a razor, Taia decided as her friend questioned, "And the flute is because?"

Percy continued to act - rather terribly, she would add, at looking philosophical. At least it was better than moping. Nonetheless, she answered his question. "Mum played one for me the week I had with her. Spent a lot of my life after that trying to learn flute, and it helped because groups of demigods picked me up to alleviate boredom by listening to me play. Hell, it was hard because my breath ran out so quickly." Finally, Percy gave up on his mini-act, and Aly cracked, a giggle leaking through the grim moon exterior as she finally returned to cursing. "Hot fricken damn, you utter bastard, I'm trying to be touchy-feely here!"

As Percy also began to laugh, both moved on from their sadness with a cleansing joy as they dropped from the railing. "Then what should I call you, my dear ginger partner? Aly with everyone else? Just Taia?" Percy queried as they sauntered off to get back to the meet point.

"I've been Aly ever since the thing with my mum … and I've come to really like it, Perce. It's a part of me now, no matter how cheesy that sounds," Aly grinned, not viciously or victoriously like Percy was used to dealing with Aly, but a soft, quiet, and introspective smile.

"You don't cuss when you consider yourself Taia, don't you … um, Aly? Taia? Alytaia?" Percy stumbled across his words. Perhaps unsure as to address the alien who was not constantly cursing or unnaturally bright before him? It wasn't as if she cussed that much.

"Perhaps, you turd," teased Aly in a cheerful taunt, "Just maybe. And … I actually like that. Alytaia. A-ly-tai-a. Huh … only when it's just us talking, yeah? And only as long as I get some kinda name for you. Like … like …"

Pouting as the duo cheated their way into the subway by way of a conveniently held open emergency door (as a man on a wheelchair was leaving), Percy countered, "But you already have so many names for me, Aly. There's -" The following list of so-called affectionate terms used by Aly, while beginning mildly, slowly reached into highly offensive terminology that caused heads to turn even amongst the most unhealthily verbose of New Yorkers.

Aly snickered as they entered the car, laying back upon the orange and yellow seats. "Yes, they're nice and all, but I want something personal. Something that's just you, if you're going to have me be Alytaia. Like … Emerald? Such pretty eyes, but no. Journal? closer, considering all those infernal writings you keep, you freak. Hm …"

Percy exhaled softly - not like he could fight this anyways, he should know that by now so - "Then how about Diary? Log? Notebook?"

Aly's face lit up, and she beamed as adjusted her satchel so she could properly lean onto his shoulder, claiming, "Notebook! Good enough, sounds just about right. You'll be Notebook! And then you could call me Alytaia." Leaning in further, the two slid to fully distribute their weight onto the bench - past lunch, but before release from work so fewer people on board.

"Well, Alytaia, do you mind if I say that I love you?" Aly tensed. Body language saying 'WTF?!' aside, it did not keep the boy partially beneath her from recklessly persisting.

"I realize that perhaps it hasn't been the longest time we've known each other Aly, and I hope this doesn't freak you out and all, but I really think I do. Maybe I got attached too quickly. But from what I understand of love … well, I'll be there for you. Always. Well … hehehe, maybe by enforced choice, but I promised," Percy admitted, before again talking in order to perhaps cover up his massive blunder of revealing such pubescent emotion of a 14 year old, "I read once that men love with their eyes, and women with their ears. and I guess you're quite wonderfully beautiful and attractive, and … and …"

Aly finally relaxed, listening to the rumbling of the subway. "I wish you hadn't told me that, Notebook. Perce. Percy. Notebook. Yup, Notebook. First, it was just to never betray each other. And second, well anyways … I guess you're right, because I never would have said a thing if you didn't say yourself. It's so easy to get bloody attached in this hellish existence … but we're sworn to stay at each other's backs, hm? I love you too." And just like that, she turned her head and swooped in for an awkward kiss.

First the noses collided, before she and Percy re-angled to properly meet and kiss. Light and chaste, both breathed lightly in the odd smells of the New York subterranean system before separating.

"That felt really weird."

"Agreed."

"Never speak of it or do it again, Taia?"

"Only if it was your first kiss that I stole, Notebook."

"We kissed?"

"What kiss are you bloody talking about, retard? Sheesh Percy, you idiot, are you turning into Dakota and hallucinating?"

Nonetheless, she again cuddled into him, kissing his cheek affectionately, comforted in the knowledge of his care for herself.

* * *

The waxing crescent moon in the sky was the same as it ever was (excluding light pollution that ruined the constellations), hovering in the heavens above in the midnight darkness. The general silence was not as concrete as one might believe, for the endless shuffling of leaves in the forest covered the movements of both terrified prey and eager predators. Crickets chirped endlessly, and the occasional buzzing of brightly glowing pumpkin orange fireflies interjected every few minutes. The forest was as it always was, luckily undisturbed by the endless traffic and construction of New York.

Within the boughs of the boughs of a yew tree, however, crouched the largest prey of all. A girl - one of the more timeless females that looked 14 but could be 21 - daintily perched upon a more static branch, sylphlike in a sub-radiant beauty that was obvious even in the heavy, thick, darkness. Perhaps it was easier to see the regal features upon the girl's face due to the light and short silvery-gray hair that was kept back into a messy bun, or the light glow that her body emitted. It also helped that her clothing was completely silver colored in nature, lighting up the slight turns and string of the recurve bow upon the girl's back. A single shaft of silver moonlight fell from a hidden holster within the mercury colored jacket of the girl, and she deftly snatched it, holding the fletching as if it was a blade. Meanwhile, the other hand rested lightly on a most curious blade. The handle was small, fit for a female's grip, and adorned at the bottom was a small crescent blade, much like the moon above. The actual blade, which lay against her silver adorned leg cutting slightly into the trunk of the bone-white tree she was within, looked much like a cross between a khopesh - a curved blade used by ancient Egyptian guards, and a sickle - a gardening tool adapted for war as a scythe. In short, it hooked heavily, also appearing much like a crescent, in the opposite direction of the crescent decorating the handle grip.

Light shimmered down the blade, following the heavily imbalanced s-shape. Red-tinted eyes peered out of the leafy canopy, watching for danger. Motioning for a previously impossible to see figure, as said figure was not lit by any extraordinary means in the shady absence of light, a tiny girl of at most 5 years old crawled up the tree branch to the elder girl's backside. The child looked as if to be recovering from malnutrition or suffering from starvation, a taut stomach and thin limbs, gaunt cheeks and a pained grimace from constant hunger. However, twinkling green eyes shone from the sheaf of messily chopped black hair that framed the small face.

But the peace of the moment was not to be. Supernaturally, the moon above, within a second's time. shifted into a waxing gibbous moon, a half moon, a full moon, a waning gibbous moon, another half moon, a waning crescent moon, a new moon, and once more a waning crescent moon. The flash of unnatural light lit up the entirety of the forest, and a vague whistling could be heard. The practically albino warrior girl in the tree quickly turned to snatch the child up, ducking a shaft of an arrow that flew and embedded itself within the previously tranquil yew. A hunting horn sounded, to be echoed by wolf after wolf, and horn after horn. The haunting noise aroused the wind, which chased the now fleeing warrior with a child upon her back. The slim frame of the warrior dashed down, hurrying over a small stream to the east, the constant movement sending up flashes from the odd khop-sickle tied to her waist, the girl upon her back tightly gripping the elder girl's neck as they ran desperately from their pack of predators.

* * *

The sorrowful melody of the famous music of Beethoven, _Moonlight Sonata_, filled the night air by way of a Styxian Steel flute. Perhaps not written for the flute, but Aly would use whatever melody she wished that she wanted to adapt, regardless of whatever instrument it was originally composed for. Already having played a piece also called _Moonlight_ by Jon Schmidt inspired by the famous composer, the notes moved seamlessly, the rare breaths needed to power the sound spaced into the perfect cadences.

The crew of six sat around a stone surrounded lightly crackling fire in a clearing, tended to carefully by the ever strange clear-sighted mortal pixie haircut redhead, Rachel. The girl, beyond adding pieces of dead wood to the fire every quarter hour or so, was rifling through her backpack. Carefully drawing her Imperial Gold machete from a strapped harness on the side of her calf, the girl hummed the bass line of the Classical-Romantic Era piece as she casually snipped a few loosening threads. it would have been a very strange sight - a 14 or 15 year old girl in an extremely colorful tie-dye shirt and equally tie-dyed jacket, a peasant skirt, sneakers hidden underneath her legs organizing her things, if not for the tall drunkard to her left of the fire. Dakota, in his drunken, curly black-haired glory, when not swigging a variety of Tic Tacs from a monster sized canister, appeared to be dozing in gym clothing - gray baggy sweatpants, a white undershirt, and a non-zipped darker gray hoodie. A green bag lay at his feet, kicked about and some of its contents - rock candy, toothpaste, a cabbage, and more Tic Tacs - were strewn about on the ground by the large shoes the teenager wore.

Again to the left sat Avila, dwarfed by her petite size compared to the giant Dakota, who seemed to be greatly considering some vague concept as the flickering whites, yellows, oranges, and reds of the flame reflected on her coal black eyes. Her face was covered by her still efficiently side braided hair and hands covering her mouth in thought as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Clad in a simple rich purple shirt - bought or shoplifted from an Abercrombie and Fitch store, no one will tell - and covered on top of that by a black jacket with elements of clean white (the laces around the hood, the zipper that fell open to reveal also white zips, the design of a fire upon the upper left breast), all resided above the navy blue jeans worn, and small tennis shoes covered feet. A black bag seemed to be left forgotten behind her, as her eyes were too busy trailing the nimble, agile sparks that flew into the air. To her left was Percy, who when not laying back on dried, crinkly leaves, hood of his navy blue hoodie sweater up (from which within a green shirt peeked out from) and covering his sheaf of messy hair to watch the night constellations and moon, would sit up, dust off his khakis and shuffle his sneakers to reach toward the available food close to the fire. Mostly just canned food, cooked by the ever so able mortal Rachel, the meatballs and tomatoes were quite tasty. Just missing noodles to make spaghetti. At times, the boy would reach into the kangaroo pocket to pull out his journal, to attempt to draw the night sky above him but fail miserable and erase all the constellations. Only the moon was easy to see in the light-polluted heavens.

Proceeding on sat Aly, who seemed content to serenade the crew with her agile moving fingertips ghosting across the keys of her instrument weapon. Her red tresses were the longest of the group, reaching the bottom of her shoulderblades. She wore just a black t-shirt, not cold in the slightest in the autumn night; a black turtleneck and hoodie were folded carefully and resting on top of her magical satchel. Wearing black jeans, she could get away with attending a funeral in said attire if her shoes were not gray converse shoes. Dark eyes remained closed, as her body leaned too and fro from the rhythm of her music. Last of all, conveniently across from his once upon a time captor in an effort to stay as far away as possible, sat Lee. In the most dutiful and responsible manner of the group, the blond was collecting the dinner tins that each ate from, his white polo slightly smudged from travels and staining foods. His favored golden jacket lay within his bag, which he kept between his jean clad legs and tennis shoe clad feet in order to keep his blue eyes trained upon it.

The more clunky weapons - thea pilum, thea gladius, and the a longbow, were each driven into the ground to be of easy access to in case of a battle. It formed a convenient equilateral triangle, enclosing the group of six that encircled the merrily snapping fire. Conversation was ignored in exchange for dinner, which Rachel had eaten little of her mangoes; Dakota had devoured his sausages before returning to his diet of diabetes; Avila had picked at her vegetables and beef slowly; Percy had inhaled his anti-pasta; Aly had gulped her stew to practice her flute; and Lee skewering the last of his hunted rabbit kebob.

Finally, conversation picked up, Lee joining in to talk to Rachel, who was already sharing the very strange conversation with Dakota about everyone being Caucasian in their group except for Avila, and the girl in question beginning to address Percy about whatever that seemed to be occupying her mind.

"Lllike, it's it just so straange that only Avilllaa's - like. Um. Where's Avila froooom anyways?" Dakota drawled out as he gesticulated wildly, fingers carefully covering the cap of his precious sugar supply.

"She's just a Hades forsaken Roman," grumbled Lee, who still seemed to be unable to let go of his grudge from being captured. "They're all the same. Barbarians."

"Now, now. Lee, there's no need to be so touchy. Peace. Meditate. Hmmm…" intoned the ever odd Rachel. For the sake of all of our sanities and ability to understand conversation, we move to the other conversation, backed by the music of Greensleeves.

Quietly as to not be overheard, Avila began a conversation that Percy would have laughed at with its coincidental timing if he did not still have some sense of social grace. "Perseus," Avila whispered as she woke from her fire gazing trance, nudging the boy laying on his back, "I wish to speak with you."

"Formal as ever," Percy said blearily as he sat up, rubbing his face with his sleeve, "What about? Regret sacrificing your food to the wrong god or something? I gave mine to Hestia." Who else would he sacrifice to? His father had yet to do anything for him, and Hestia was Goddess of Home and Hearth. It would be good to get her favor.

"My name is Reyna."

With that bombshell, Percy's surprised blinking, and Aly's continued flute playing, an almost albino haired girl popped out of the forest to collapse upon the ground a few feet from the fire, panting as she struggled to stand. The six year old from her back rolled off, and ran to the fire to warm up, completely ignoring the group of six. Still struggling to catch her breath, the elder arrival turned her head to plead with the group while drawing her oddly shaped weapon.

"Please help us."

The fire extinguished as Rachel covered it with a pre-set mound of dirt, and pulling the girl into a caring embrace. All turned to face approaching wolves. Hunters of Artemis melted into the clearing, silver glow matched the waxing of the moon. Backing up, the now group of 8 stood head to head, the wisping smoke trail flying off from the center of the clearing, almost as if being drawn in like a cigarette into the sky's cheshire cat grin.

* * *

He was waiting. They were gathering, those that could, his siblings. They were helping gather himself. He was so thankful. Perhaps they were weaker, but they would work together this time.

The black fortress perhaps was not all there, wispy mist rising from black marble. His siblings sat in their thrones, deep past the dark foyer and in the main hall. Everything shined with a hidden light, and the slow, haunting music of a piano lilted through the air. Statues made of night lined the walls, modeled after his siblings in the throne room. There, they seemed to be meditating in their seats, facing a large dais that sat between two bronze braziers. At least, the few that were there. The only sounds that could be heard was the minor melody of the piano, and the crackling fire.

The dias was full of scenes of mass death and destruction. Gods were trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks were being burned to the ground and rebuilt anew. Despite the roaring fires, the dias radiated an aura of extreme cold. Or rather, perhaps the sarcophagus upon caused the effect. It was actually quite plain, just solid gold about ten feet long. The only thing that could be considered intricate about it was the frosty gold pattern that originated from the coffin. If there was any way to describe it, it would be that there was some electronic grid that sat beneath the casket. Light played along the wiry format of gold, and a distant whispering was audible as the light traveled along the wires to the casket.

* * *

**Reyna's Take on the Author Notes**

**Someone sane and responsible finally taking the reins. Yes!**

You know, the author is quite the bastard, making me some kind of angsty wimp so easily taken out by a club hit of all things.

**Hey! You're saying magical steel hitting your cranium won't knock you out?**

No. I'm saying I would have dodged that and gutted Aly with my pilum. And if not, got even closer, too close for her to use her club properly and gut her with my knife.

**I spoke too soon about sane.**

But I guess it's okay with everything else. Then again, you put so much trouble into the shit with my name, then you upstage it with some god forsaken Huntress crap!

**Um. Could you just do the AN? You're one of my favorite characters. Please!**

Fine. But no more, you hear me?

**Yes.**

Favorite, follow, review, PM. Thanks to CP berries that Seneca Crane died with in Hunger Games movies but not books. That good?

**You're supposed to be polite!**

I wish I could set Aurum and Argentium on you. Or Scipio, for that matter.

**Um … all in good time? Someone volunteer and be a good beta please! Or maybe not. Updated 6/22/15. **

Edited 7/14/15.

**Couldn't you let me have the last word?**

Do I need to gut you?


	6. KoK V1 C5

Reminder: chapter of fight is missing. Long story short, protagonists win and Leo drops in with Festus.

* * *

_"It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him." -J. R. R. Tolkien_

* * *

Meditating, Diana sat quietly, contemplating the order of the world. Her fellow Olympians had achieved nothing in the previous Winter Solstice meeting. Actually … haven't achieved anything for the past 5 decades worth of meetings. Every six months, she had brought her Huntresses to Olympus to dally around for a day. Ever since the aspects of each fellow Olympian had stabilized, all were more complacent than ever.

Her father lazed around during the meetings, letting Juno take charge. Poseidon seemed more tired than ever, and if rumor was right had constantly went around the mortal world as of late siring children. As of late some children of the sea had been coming out of the wetworks. Pluto refused to show up to Olympus anymore, saying he was too busy trying to organize the kingdom of the ever increasing dead.

Demeter just constantly bemoaned about agriculture as if it was important - why not just hunt? Hestia had vanished as of late, and everyone seemed to conclude she had faded or ignored that she existed. Shame, considering that she was the only Aunt she ever liked. She wasn't gone at all, but for some odd reason most of the Olympians forgot she tended the fire at the meetings.

Dionysus was always obliviously drunk as ever, Mars seemingly entertained by watching wars and rebellions globally. Especially the war in the Middle East. Hephaestus just stayed in his volcanoes smithing and occasionally supplying her with weapons. Aphrodite was as annoying as ever, trying to update her own wardrobe. Hermes/Mercury was just always running his messages, so nothing there.

The only two worth noting was her idiotic twin and Athena. Athena had been constantly scribbling away at some device of hers, seeming to be planning something or calculating something. Her brother was less tolerable than ever, going around willy-nilly and using his literally divine looks to seduce vapid women. It was the only reason that the Hunt counter group could even match her Huntresses.

As of late, her Huntresses were reaching the point of perfection. When traveling with some Huntresses, they practically preferred going into the city and noting all the attention they got from males so that they could track and kill them. Nightshade was getting rather annoying as of late, pestering her to do other than what she wanted, and to always show up to meetings to get things done.

Hm ... What would happen if she missed the next solstice meeting? It had been a while since she'd been hunting around.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 101 (Cont.)

Well … to start off with the easiest thing - and I regret having to call this the simplest - we met the Son of Hephaestus.

* * *

Percy finally spit out his gum, in sheer amazement at the display before him. If streams of practically white hot fire blasted into the air and rock music that was bound to attract monsters (not even going to mention the blood of huntresses beginning to permeate the air), the insane boy apparently named Leo was beginning to shoot fireworks.

Fireworks.

"Now, considering all this," said the Son of Hephaestus, gesturing around the clearing, "was done by you guys, I'm not sure I want to fight you guys. Especially as since the camera footage too." Pulling out a small blue box from his pocket, it projected a holographic image unto the ground. While Percy was looking at it upside down, it was obviously a photograph of Reyna picking apart the attackers, from above. Glancing over, Percy quickly located a knot in a tree which seemed to glint in the moonlight. "Whoa, hot and dangerous," the boy continued, winking at Reyna. who had retrieved her spear, "still don't think you can face me and George back here." The dragon stopped its massive display, cutting off its flamethrower to roar and them and crouch, ready to pounce into action.

"Geeeorge?" Dakota slurred from behind Percy, "Why not Fred?" The eldest among the crew was almost entirely unaffected by the show, having taken it into his drunken stride and was now rifling through their attackers' supplies, mostly taking away weaponry, leaving only unconscious huntresses with just their knife or a few arrows.

Leo winced noticeably. "Yeah … um, it's a work in progress. Anyway," the boy continued undeterred, closing the image and putting the box back into a pocket, "Since I can in no way ignore the possible needs of a few cute redheads, what do you guys need?" Clicking his tongue and grinning crookedly at what he must have believed was attractive on his rather grimy 13 year old self, he was completely unprepared for the starved looking five year old to cry "PERVERT!" and run up, planting a rather high kick into Leo's balls.

Grimacing, as it was terribly painful, he carefully held back the little girl as he turned to keep his mechanical dragon from attacking. However, instead of it having registered the small black haired as a threat and revving a fire to attack, the dragon was now guffawing, creaking and squeaking as it dropped onto its side and rolled around in the clearing, nearly squashing incapacitated huntresses. Groaning at lost pride, the boy suddenly cackled as he came up with a proper name for the machine that was his companion. "Gay! That's a word for happy, right?"

Turning around once more, he sweated at seeing the crew that he met also mostly mimicking the dragon. Percy had dropped onto his knees, watching the cocky and previously threatening boy be upstaged by a little girl, biting his hands to keep from laughing. Dakota had no such restraint, and dropped his assorted collection of silver knives, and quivers full of arrows in order to hold his belly and laugh uproariously. Lee was grinning wildly, shoulders shaking in silent glee. Reyna was coughing rather roughly, likely covering up some humor of her own. Rachel simply smiled, green eyes practically glowing with mischief as she walked up to pick up the young girl, who was still muttering 'pervert'. Aly was the most expressive of them all, laying on her back, legs shadow-walking in the spasms of her stomach as she chuckled, crying out "Girl power, loser!" and "What kind of bloody name is that?" very time she caught her breath.

"Um … maybe not Gay then. How about Cheer? Happy? Glad? Joy? Smile? Gimme something here! Bliss?"

"Well," Percy admitted, finally able to talk normally, "I suppose Gay works. Could be worse."

"Well … Maybe, maybe not," said Leo, "Anyways, follow me!"

* * *

Entry 101 (Cont.)

Lee made a basic stretcher out of duct tape and broken branches. Since we males were rather reluctant to approach the defector of the Huntresses who obviously managed to evade three teams of Huntresses for so long while taking care of a toddler, Aly and Reyna carried the girl while Rachel cared for Julia, as she told us all. After Leo apologized to the girl, Julia also cutely said sorry, grinning with a few missing teeth. Dakota offered Julia some chips, which the child devoured.

Introductions were somewhat awkward, but we got our messages across. Seeing as Leo, Leo Valdez, was beginning to find it difficult to get proper food that wasn't rather charred due to Festus hunting for him (and the complete absence of knowledge of exactly _what _Festus's hunted meat was), he agreed to join our team. He treated Dakota, Lee, and I like practically gang brothers, but rather well. Rather sleazy introductions were held with the females of the group, flirting with each girl. Reyna shook his hand, and then slapped him for calling her 'hot.' Aly grabbed Leo's collar and cussed him out for it, but Rachel simply smiled before dismissing him with a simple statement of, "I'm Rachel." Still need to talk with Reyna more about the Reyna thing.

Since no one could really sleep after the attack, everyone helped arrange for the Huntresses to be safe until some of them woke up, taking about an hour prepping stakes to keep wild monsters away. Then Leo led us towards his "Man Cave," before segueing into a rather annoying but necessary discussion. Then his base. Then sleep.

* * *

"So what do you guys call yourselves?"

The group collectively took in the question as they walked towards Leo's base, not really having considered it before.

"No? Not even something like Team Aqua? Go, Sharpedo?"

"What are you even talking about?" asked Percy as he spun his steel weapon like a baton. He was more occupied with knowing how to fulfill his oath to Styx. Everyone else seemed to share similar sentiments.

However, Lee Fletcher seemed to share Leo's horror at the group not knowing what the Son of Hephaestus was referencing. "How do you not know Team Aqua? Kyogre? Team Magma and Groudon? Rayquaza? Pokemon!?"

"That stupid video game?" derided Aly as she watched Lee and Leo fist-bump in their nerd knowledge. "When the hell could we play some stupid video game?" A mutual "Um…" was her only reply. "A team name? Let's do … huh. We don't even have any group specialization, what the hell could we use?"

Rachel began to list as Dakota swigged … was that beer? Must be Coke. "A clear-sighted mortal, a Roman and a Greek children of Apollo, a Son of Poseidon, a-"

"Daughter of Bellona," interjected Reyna, still stewing and waiting for a more private time to address Percy.

"a Son of Bacchus, a Son of … I think Vulcan or Hephaestus, and a little girl, and her rescuer, who all we can really tell is some kind of traitor of the Huntress group. If they even stay with us, though I do think that Julia likes me very much." Indeed, the girl, as young as she was, had gotten very attached to Rachel in the span of the night; Julia was sleeping in Rachel's piggyback.

"The Crazies, we are!" yelled Dakota, startling everyone with the same amount of surprise that one would if a child of Ares declared a truce.

"No, no. The Ladies that love Leo and the boy himself! And co." said Reyna … no, Leo. Who else?

"Shut up, retard," said (you should really know by now), "Everyone just suggest an idea?"

"Or," said Rachel, cutting through the few rapid fire suggestions in a most tranquil manner, "we let the leader choose."

"We have a leader?" asked Percy, "When did that happen?"

"You aren't our leader?" countered the whimsical mortal redhead, her head cocked to the side curiously. If Percy had to label whatever expression that had come across the girl's face, it would have to be condescension. To the utmost degree.

"Oh! Well, then …" dallied Percy as he squirmed under everyone's attention, nearing a rather tall cliff on the opposite side of the forest they were in. No monsters had attacked them en route, likely due to the large mechanical dragon the circled above them in the air, gears creaking and groaning as the wings flapped. "How about … the Stygians?"

"Wait, what?"

"Why?"

"Leo's Mechanics is better!"

"Feh."

"Perfect!"

Everyone turned to glance at Aly, the last to speak up. "It's bloody fricken perfect! The river we swear oaths upon, the river of dreams, the river of damnation! The theme works!"

"Uh … how?" asked Rachel.

"Um … just go with it or I'll paralyze you all?" Aly threatened weakly.

Leo shrugged, commenting, "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Now, watch this!" The boy smiled maniacally as his hand burst into flames, and the boy walked up to the cliff face to touch it lightly. Leo put his hand on the cliff. The very air smoldered, and a tracery of fire spread from his hands as if oil had been left trailing across the limestone wall. The lines of fire burned into and across the face of rock until they outlined an utterly massive glowing red door, which then swung open silently.

"Welcome to Bunker 9."

* * *

Long after most everyone went to bed, finding bunks cut into the rock in a different segment of the cave, Rachel wandered, exploring the vast place. FestusName Pending had hunkered down and turned himself off, and Leo had mentioned a network of tunnels leading off to places he had not yet fully mapped. She was content to wander the work area, though, until she heard a slight disturbance. Returning to the resting area, the redhead found the unknown huntress waking up.

The girl seemed to have completely lost her silver glow, though Rachel was unsure as to whether it was due to being outside of moonlight or betraying the Huntresses. Gray hair was revealed to be actually white, only appearing gray due to the previously held silver glow, though fluttering eyelids revealed her eye color to be red. Definitely not born mortal, didn't seem too terribly monstrous, but never had the clear-sighted mortal seen those physical traits on any demigod. Her not obviously muscled but still strong body was as slim and lean as she had previously seen, but seemed oddly woundless. What accented that observation was dozens of tears in her still completely silver clothing ensemble, down to the mocassins.

Rachel watched as the girl's hands immediately drifted for her odd sword, then to her back for her recurve bow, before ending by flexing her left arm. The mortal gasped as a quiver from beneath the silver sleeve released an arrow that the albino caught, then reflexively raised her hands to defend herself as the once-huntress instantly pulled over her bow, ready to shoot. However, she once more relaxed as the huntress realized her not a threat, and because the action seemed to have overstretched some sore muscle that the huntress had in her upper body and dropped her weapon.

As the girl whimpered slightly, likely at the feeling of her muscles screaming in pain at her, she blinked at Rachel. It was probably taking a little while to assess the situation, and it would probably be somewhat difficult considering the duct tape and branch made stretcher she was in. Once on the bed, the redhead simply said, "My name is Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Yours is?"

The completely unfrazzled redhead received a cautious gaze, and desertor before her chose her following words carefully. "My name … my name is Anna Di Notte. I am one of the older Huntresses from the Roman era, took up an Italian last name because I liked it. Where is Julia?"

Rachel smiled, replying, "She's safe, with the others just over there. When are you from?"

"I am a product of the Roman era," the girl said groggily.

"Who's your favorite Harry Potter character?"

Tilting her head in further confusion, Anna answered without pause, "Remus Lupin. Are you mortal?"

A wider smile this time, and the rally was, "Yes. Are you bleeding?"

Indeed, when Anna had dropped her weapons, the arrowhead had cut slightly into her right hand, as the girl seemed to be using her bow left handed. Rachel watched as Anna looked down to see the small laceration ooze out blood, just as expected. Rachel, though, seemed to be far more interested in the blood than considered mentally healthy.

"Um … yes. Why are you watching so closely? Is it silver after all my time with the Huntresses or something?"

"Oh, not silver. Looks perfectly normal. Why'd you leave the Huntresses?"

"That's a long story."

"Too long, didn't read. What about the short version?"

"Oh… um, saw Julia treated horrendously in some apartment above a club. Used … well, seduced a boy into helping me sneak into the club, before disappearing away to retrieve Julia," Anna told Rachel, pausing to take breath, "I succeeded, but as of late the Huntresses seem to have grown more anti-male than ever while I simply just avoid associating with males, and have chosen to drive me out. It's been a few months now."

"Is that why you killed some huntresses but ignored others?" Rachel asked, nodded though eyes not focused. Indeed, perhaps a third of the attacking huntresses yesterday Anna had finished off instead of leaving unconscious, despite leaving some others.

"Yes," Anna conceded. Her lips were pursed, likely slightly uncomfortable as she watched Rachel. "May I remain with your group?"

"Trials for full membership to join the Stygians is three weeks in length. Do you agree to join?" Rachel now smirked, finding the new prospect before her amusing.

"Stygians? What, by agreeing to trial am I put in an Oath to remain?"

"Actually, yes."

"What?!" She'd never met a group with such a strong minor goddess backing them before. There was one Janus cult that had a magical base in some kind of door factory. A fellow huntress had once mentioned it being like some Pixar movie involving monsters. Janus was a fairly important Roman minor god, but Styx was a cut above - how did they get backed by her?

"Percy got the goddess to make a binding contract for whoever that joined had to stay for three weeks, as long as they were aware of the contract. He had some time after getting the brainwave to call us Stygians."

"A male?"

"Do you want to watch over Julia?" A pause, to let the girl assess. "I'll let you sleep on joining. Aly should be okay with it, with Avila being Reyna and all. Otherwise there would be too many A names."

And with that, Rachel left Anna to ponder.

* * *

_I wonder, sister of soul, how amusing you would find my predicament. Or how angry you would become, more like. I can already feel it. You are looking for me._

* * *

A narrow stone walkway floated on air above the expansive city of Manhattan at the height of a flying airplane. White marble steps twisted and turned up an unmoving cloud into the sky. At its end was the peak of a mountain, its summit covered with unmelting snow. It seemed rooted in the cloud, and clinging to the sides of the mountain were tens if not hundreds of multileveled palaces and mansions. Decorations varied, columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with the day. Crazily winding roads led here and there, and at the peak, the largest palace shone against the snow. Gardens were perched here and there, flowering shrubs of reds and whites and trees of oak and maple seeming to almost fall off the steep slopes. An outdoor market was completely filled by a riot of color, an amphitheater was carved deeply into the mountain rock, and a racing arena and a coliseum on the other side. An Ancient Greek city that did not lay in ruins, but resting above one of the most prosperous cities of a new age.

The population was no less awe striking. Beautiful nymphs picked olives from their gardens, sellers on the street yelled out offers for ambrosia kebob. New weapon sales here, mock replicas of the famous magical items there. The Nine Muses were tuning their instruments for street concert, which many minor gods and goddesses seemed to be waiting for. Everything glittered white and silver, or were vibrant in their own right. It was almost as if a gay pride march had littered their signature colors across the streets. It was more festive than a mortal's Halloween and Christmas combined.

After all, it was the day that the Olympians congregated. They were at their most powerful, as the day lasted the longest out of the entire year. The massive palace looked as cheerful as the rest of the mountain, clean and glimmering. However, it didn't sound the same. _I should visit Pluto soon_, resolved a goddess in the guise of an old woman, tending a fire in the of the throne room. _After all, he hasn't attended any meetings for so long. And he's always so terribly lonely at this time of the year, without his wife._ A loud riff blared, and atrocious singing rang equally loudly. It wasn't that the singing was bad, just far too overpoweringly sweet. _And he's the only person who isn't remarkably stupid, being second oldest._

Twelve thrones were arranged in a parabolic arch, under a ceiling that mimicked the sky above. They curved around the enormous fire crackling in the central hearth pit, of which the crone Hestia still tended. At the head, the very largest, was a simple throne of solid platinum with a few etchings of lightning upon the sides. The fifteen man sitting in it, however, was far more sophisticated. Sporting a well-trimmed beard of marbled gray and black hair, it framed a proud, handsome, and grim face. The very air crackled around the ten foot tall being and smelled distinctly of ozone. To the king of the god's right sat a god of clear familial relation, but dressed far more lax in beach clothing and sitting in a ship captain's chair. Black leather, and a custom built-in holster for a fishing pole.

Continuing down, a large misshapen cripple whose grimy features were alight with flame sat upon a huge mechanical massage chair, which was embedded with a mess of bronze, silver, and gold gears. Next was a booth, at which two twins seemed to be operating a telegram machine. One was tapping away messages that did not seem to be in Morse code, while the other was transcribing something down from whatever he was hearing. Past that, a man sat on a pure gold seat playing a lyre rather loudly to entertain the Olympians as they waited for his sister's arrival. Finally, capping off the right arc was a throne comprised of chrome and leather, and the armrests seemed to consist of impossibly large human skulls. A man with glowing eyes hidden behind dark shades sat cleaning his fingernails of what suspiciously looked like dried blood, using a knife that seemed to be hidden from underneath a cross between that of an army soldier's uniform and hoodlum biker's leather.

At the king's left was a silver haired stern faced lady dressed in a rich royal blue dress, cloaked by goat's skin atop the shoulders, watching the proceedings. Continuing on, a rich green robed dark-haired goddess sat a throne woven of branches from many different trees, calmly eating what looked to be raisin cornflakescorn flakes. Already looking conspicuous further on, a drunk sleeping male on the female side lay atop leopard skins, oblivious to the noise. His head was cradled by the vines that comprised his grand chair, which gave fruit to grapes, strawberries, and cans of Diet Pepsi. An intense stormy gray eyed woman peered deeply into a laptop as she typed away at what looked like a high-schooler's desk, with the table holding up her device, legs crossed underneath an elegant white dress. A throne of silver sat opposite of its gold counterpart, feeling extremely empty compared to everyone else's chairs of power. Once again at the end, a woman whose features never seemed definite yet was definitely that of ideal beauty laid upon a couch, seemingly modeling for invisible photographers in a dress that seemed to morph along with her facial features.

All seemed fairly fine. Zeus was lazing about, waiting for his favorite daughter to return from her late hunts. Juno surveyed everyone else, watching for anything she could nitpick upon (thereby constantly criticizing Hephaestus's attire). The Sea God seemed to be fishing into some portal, occasionally pulling out sea dragons, whale sharks, and even a polar bear. The god of smithing was tinkering away, Hermes and Mercury managed messages at Mach 5, and Mars now playing a rather violent video game on a side television screen. Demeter was now eating at corn flakes, Bacchus somehow had flipped in his chair upside down like a leopard, Athena typing into what looked like Matrix code, and Aphrodite now seemed to be sinking into some sauna.

None were prepared for the Huntress to barge in, Zoe Nightshade charging past palace guards. They were especially surprised by the infamous Titan child's anger. Bits and pieces of what the yelling Huntress was saying were coming through, mostly consisting of anger at lost of group population, search for revenge, and her Ladyship not coming to the Summer Solstice. And then an abrupt departure.

_So much for a short meeting_, Hestia bemoaned in her mind.

* * *

**Anna's Take on the Author Notes**

**I really kinda find it strange that just about at 2000 views, no one has noticed or mentioned anything about a naming pattern for something. Can't give a hint too obvious, so just mentioning naming, and it's not characters. One thing I want to point out is 9. Leo was planned to be the 10th member to join the group, but I changed him to 9 to fit Bunker 9, and Cabin 9. Just for coincidence's sake.**

Sigh. Males.

**What?**

Anyways, paradoxed would like to thank bluechocalatemilk - thank lord for female help, paradoxed would be screwed otherwise - for the Shakespearean English style note and has changed it to colonial American. And that wasn't Zoe. Just Madison.

**I'm not entirely sure whether you're being sexist or feminist anymore. And Madison? I didn't even name her.**

Well you don't particularly care for either, oh stupid author. And that was her name, male.

**I think you're being sexist.**

And yet there you were, describing how you believe that males and females are not and never will be equals.

**How the hell did you know about that?**

I'm a goddess.

**Right...**

What?

**Anyways, I was saying that because the sexes simply aren't. Males by evolution are inherently stronger, females inherently smarter. Males nomadic, females sedentary. But lots of things that people stereotype are honestly more individual, such as arrogance, pride, general negativity. I will not deny that females have been shafted over the past of … human history? But many who are such assholes about it don't really deserve it.**

I suppose it is better than the original Hunters from the PJO writings. Seriously, how do so many young girls feel so negatively about male treatment? It's practically reverse cooties.

**Yeah, the books never really talks about rape issues so I'm not too entirely sure about that, but I feel like even Zoe's story was kinda lame. Unpopular opinion for the win. Heracles, working on his eleventh task as repentance for killing his wife and kids (because Hera drove him insane with magic), is approached by a young girl who gives him good advice, to get Atlas to help him. Then, after that, gives Heracles, a guy she just met, her immortal power, despite Heracles neither asking for or wanting it. Heracles never uses it due to not having a need for it, leaves to complete his twelfth task.**

I seeing what you mean. With a previously more biased look, it seems more like Heracles took advantage of her. However, in canon writing, he takes her gift, thanks her, then the rest is unknown. Zoe was simply acting as if Heracles should've done more for her, when they've just interacted for about five minutes.

**It's just like the Beast in Beauty and the Beast. The Beast was maybe 10 or 11 when he was forced to transform into the Beast. So basically, for being a young intelligent orphan denying a suspicious stranger asking for room and board, did he make a smart decision? Yes. Like, taken into its own context, some things just don't really fit anymore.**

Well, back on track before you go too off tangent, male. bambino, how else would Leo show up? Curious Beats, the author is not too entirely sure if the pace is healthy, but it's summer. So … free time is writing time. This sort of pace would probably lessen to around once a week during the school year, or even just next month due to a summer school.

**Thanks for being so courteous. And more normal.**

Feh. Normal's no fun. Favorite, follow, review. Volunteer to be beta. Updated 6/24/15. Edited 7/15/15


	7. KoK V1 C6

_Individual commitment to a group effort - that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work. -Vince Lombardi_

* * *

Diana was tracking. Currently her huntresses were only slowing her down, so she was off on her own. After all, it was quite a personal business when her huntresses were killed. Especially by a huntress.

Betrayal. Ah, she would come to regret it. It was somewhat difficult finding survivors of the incident, and it spoke much of the skill level of whoever they faced if so many were dead. It also spoke of their weakness, though, their inability to finish off and kill all. It was fine, though. They would come to regret it.

There was a slight shift in the air, as a fellow Olympian warped to greet her. "Artemis!" Hermes cried, "How are you doing? Do you know how worried Jupiter is? I've been looking for you for ages!"

Ignoring pleasantries, Diana responded dismissively. "Why are you here?"

Hermes scratched at his head, combing at his hair. With its state of messiness, it was obvious that he had not been able to tend to it. However, it's unkempt appearance did match the track suit that the messenger god was wearing. Dropping a slip of paper, the god left, before the sheet even landed on the ground.

Good. She didn't like interruptions. Picking up the paper, she scanned through it quickly and dropped it before turning back to where she came from. Unfortunately, it would have to take priority, no matter how much of an insufferable brat Athena was being.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 106

Well … it's Latin, and I'm Greek, but irrumabo.

Just … irrumabo.

* * *

Leo could feel there was something wrong.

It was in his bones. A tingling sensation, like that of a spider was crawling on his neck, as if he was being watched. Not only that, but it felt like his bones were vibrating, setting him on edge.

Well, he knew he was just as if not more paranoid than the moody one-eyed Harry Potter character from the movie. At least in terms of home safety. Not only did he have cameras set up in the miles around the Bunker and a colossal dragon to protect himself, there were quite a few traps here and there. If he hadn't led in the others when they first arrived, they likely would have fallen into some tabasco pit of doom.

And since the incident with the Minotaur, the Son of the Forge had upped the ante just to make sure nothing slipped by them again. Mechanical ents of death aside, reusing the camp ruins for springload catapults and such was quite useful. And the twin's jail cell was now alarmed, trapped, bolted, and watched full time with a miniscreen he kept in his pocket. The only blind spot the camera had in their room was the toilet, which was under the camera itself.

If by any chance that they were going to try to escape through that instead of the metal grilled walls and concrete foundations, then the toilet would explode. They were already warned about that too.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to leave just Leo at base while everyone else went to get supplies?

ZAAAAAAAAP. FWOOSH. POP.

Well, he and Julia.

Eh. He could add heat flares to Festus in the meantime. And maybe a plasma gun. Variations of the laser he made for Julia. In fact, why not incorporate all the toys he made for Julia into Festus? No way knowing when those might come in handy.

He had to give over a cattle prod to get a better name for his dragon, but it was well worth exchanging. Even if he would have to be healed by Lee later.

Leo never did realized that if Julia's toys could be so easily weaponized, that they really weren't age appropriate for her.

* * *

Anna really wasn't comfortable at the moment.

Perhaps it was because she still felt exposed in the daylight. Maybe it was because Percy was just a bit too close to her right side. Or she was uncomfortable being without the huntresses for so long. Even could be because Rachel knew something about her that she still hadn't explained.

The biggest cause was probably leaving Julia with the airheaded mechanic. After all, whilst Anna never met any smith as skilled as Leo besides Hephaestus himself, she had also never met someone so terrible at relating to people as the god. Perhaps it was inherited. The sunlight hardly mattered, though it did make her wonder if her brother was looking for her. Did he even know? Probably not. Anna had never been strong enough to face off the leader of the Huntresses in her decisions. It was actually far nicer being without having to deal with the huntresses, as in her opinion they were too shallow.

It was slightly hypocritical, considering how she was probably even more hypocritical when she started the Hunt, but no matter. Percy was definitely a large factor in roughing up the kinks of her joints. The girls were mostly simple to deal with, and she avoided both Lee and Leo. The former was due to the uncomfortability of the divine twins archery rivalry, and the latter was, as previously mentioned, airheaded and difficult to deal with.

Surprisingly, despite the awkward beginnings, Dakota was rather simple to approach afterwards. After a short time analyzing him, she had realized. He had some kind of trauma issue, and was coping with it the only way a Son of Bacchus could. Going insane, drinking gluttonously, and acting drunk. The boy still had that glint in the eye that she could recognize after years of experience, one that the beholder was always deluding the world in acts of delusion. Now, they got along alright, though there was a separate issue.

Percy himself was an enigma. He had a unique drive, the ambition of a person that only came once every century. The boy - no, man, knew what he wanted and fought for it. In the assault by rabid Stymphalian and feather throwing birds as they left for resupplying, the boy had shielded Taia's back with his own body when the keen birds had assaulted an opening. Admittedly, the Son of the Sea could have done much better if he was more skilled with the sword he was using and deflected the feather darts instead of blocking them with his body, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

Taia had pushed him into a nearby river for protecting her needlessly. It was all in good fun, as they both knew that the water would heal the wounds dealt to his arms and legs. But to see that camaraderie … Anna wished she had it herself. In the very beginning of the Hunt, she had had it. But over time, it had been lost due to multiple factors: death, leading to a jaded personality; age, cause for an inability to relate; opinions, in which hers were not as extreme as her fellow members; numbers, where she could no longer connect with the others.

The only friend she had had in fifteen centuries was Zoe Nightshade. She alone had cared when the largest factor of all had struck. Diana had taken over, and with her came the changes for a lifetime. A goddess's lifetime, considering the immortality she possessed. Was Zoe looking for her, perhaps? But without the same connections, she could only watch wistfully at Percy, at the head of the traveling pack towards Manhattan, hoping. Well, that was incorrect. The Son of Poseidon had tried his best to connect with everyone, especially Anna. But even still, with all that she was hiding, she would not try to bond with the only respectable male she had met in the longest of times. It would not be fair to Percy.

Which of course, led to the nagging thoughts Anna had on Rachel, and partially for Dakota. They both knew something about her, but to what extent she had no clue. Rachel was the more dangerous of both, but she had shared it with Dakota. The betrayer of the Huntresses knew so, she had seen the two share conversations and watch her carefully.

However, what irked her most of all was that immediately after this sharing of information, they had evidently decided to treat her exactly as they did before. Rachel was as much of a head in the clouds oddball as before, only smiling mischievously more often than not nowadays, and Dakota's spark in his eye only became clearer whenever he talked with her.

It was a sign that changes would come, but when? Living so long, going to Olympian meetings, fast paced alterations were unfamiliar to her. After all, her life had gone rather off kilter ever since the only major change in recent memory happened, the removal of the camps. It had led to … this. It was funny how Anna missed her brother. She could hear him try to force some pun about it, when she used to be able to tell him everything.

_Ah, your calling is hunting, which requires adapting. But Art, living, happiness: it is as easy to find as you in a dress._

Oh, if only he had truly been able to see how she'd matured since their separation.

* * *

Whilst Leo was forging his new weapons for his trusty dragon, grinding away at celestial bronze, he missed the slightly softer boring noise of a drill. If he had been more attentive to the prison, he would have noticed a slight young boy driving an automated hydraulic drill out from the ground, through the concrete base and into the cell.

The twins were quite surprised, and immediately rushed over to the very exciting looking boy who was whooping rather intensively. "Yeah! Who's the man? Harley's the man! Oh yeah!:

"Hey. kid! How'd you get here?"

"Wait!" The boy turned. "This is the legendary bunker, right? Home of the children of the forge, from over 200 years ago?"

"Psst. Katie." Miranda hissed, inspecting the hole the boy Harley made. "This is too small to get out from."

"Well, kid." criticized Katie, "I'm pretty sure you found it, but you're in the wrong place." The Daughter of Demeter tackled the young boy, smothered his face with her shirt until he fell into unconsciousness.

Hogtying the kid with the blankets in the room, she hushed Miranda (who was about to reprimand Katie for being so excessively violent towards an at most 8 year old boy) and said, "C'mon, see if you can set up his drill thing of his so we can dig our own way under the door."

* * *

Bobby was used to people forgetting him. In fact, even the author forgot about him. But nonetheless, he was on duty. That duty, self assigned as it was, was to watch the cell, and incapacitate all occupants with sleeping gas if necessary. He did.

* * *

Perhaps it didn't look the most interesting to others. That, she could admit. But to her, it was grand. The Library of Congress. It was rather boxy and old-timey on the outside, with plenty of double columns and arches, the lovely concentric study room, the nooks and crannies where she and her siblings stayed …

It was not the time to get lost in her admiration for her home, Annabeth reminded herself. She hadn't become leader of the Athenians at such a young age for nothing. Grit and knowledge had brought her up the ranks, despite others being older than her. Some of them probably just didn't want to be leader, but Annabeth knew everything would be better under her command. There was no way anything would go wrong under her control.

But right now she had to analyze some other information. Apparently, a mechanical owl built by a freelancer from down south had picked up key information about the Thieves beginning to move towards D.C. It was far too early to draw assumptions that it would be a raid on the Athenians, not to mention the Thieves would not be stupid enough to raid the heavily defended Library that the majority of the Children of Athena lived within. Their set up was near impenetrable, with living quarters hidden by Mist magics, security cameras trained with no blind spots (except a few in which was only known by her to be a secret path through the area - it included walking on furniture), and a guard made up of several automatons and a regular demigod rotations. The Thieves could feasibly raid, especially under the leadership of the Thief Lord. Annabeth was not arrogant enough to believe that the Thieves wouldn't invade, no. At least, not without trying to hide movements better and prerequisite scouting. And Luke wouldn't dare.

The utterly complete piece of trash had broken his previous promise of family, but there was no way he would attack her. Not without warning, at least. Luke had promised, after that fiasco …

So they were moving over for another reason. Now just what was it? If it wasn't to raid the Athenians, the only worthwhile group in the North East, then what were they going to do? As far as she knew, their pride would never allow them to be part of either the main Greek or Roman camps. As far as recent memory, there were very few children of the Big Three that hung around. There were certainly far fewer, perhaps the only good thing to come out of the World War II.

Ignoring the chance that Luke could have finally found where Thalia had went, Annabeth rifled through all other possibilities. There weren't any major forces of minor god children left around, most having been incorporated into the Greco-Roman war. Apollo's Hunt was too strong to raid, and the sects of children of Hephaestus and Aphrodite were down South. There only notable group of children of the wine god were intermixed with the few of the farming goddess, but lived west. The children of the war god lived in the Great Plains, so what exactly were the Thieves looking for?

She leaned back on the chair she was on and winced as an exposed screw nicked the back of her shoulder. Dammit, if their budget hadn't been reduced by that scamming sorceress!

* * *

Taia was happy.

Sure, the group - who was there? Dakota, Lee, Reyna, Anna, Rachel, Percy, her - had been attacked by birds of all things, but she got to toss Percy in a river. It was kinda cute how Percy had been so insistent on protecting her.

Sometimes she wondered why her kiss with Percy didn't feel right. She had lived with him, just the two of them, for just over a year, and still had spent a lot of (well, pretty much all of) her time with him to some degree for almost another year. She loved him. Both she and he had said as much, not too long ago. But it wasn't there. , Tthe chemistry needed. just wasn't there.

Taia could feel it deep down, that it wasn't to work.

But she was happy about that. Why?

Well, she had been a strong individual before she met Percy. But everything had been so lonely … friendships were not so much friendships as temporary alliances, and there were just too many outside factors to allow concrete trust. Percy - Percy had almost instantly sworn to never betray her, and there went away all those concerns. But … he felt like a big brother. Was that how a big brother was supposed to be?

Well, few demigods had real siblings, so it was quite a difficult question to answer. Not to mention she was technically older than Percy by a bit. But they were entirely comfortable with each other. Slept in the same room, essentially the same bed (if triple in area), and in general weren't afraid to change in the same room. Naked was too much, but underwear was fine.

She could suppose that was siblinghood.

And it was just way too much fun trying to get Anna to admit she was crushing on Percy. Seriously, that girl had been away from guys for far too long.

* * *

The alley was dark, the sky blotted by tall skyscrapers. It wasn't a safe area to travel through, let alone live in. But nonetheless, a pale raven haired boy with blood red lips sauntered slowly past doors to dilapidated apartments. He was being followed, and he knew it. The fluttering wings, louder than the flapping of the birds than before, and the soft screeching female voices gave much away.

Too much. Spinning around and throwing rocks like discus, Dakota pegged the three harpies in the air behind him. While they were certainly almost invulnerable to weapons that were not divine metal, a good old fashioned chunk of stone always worked. Actually, regular steels and other mundane objects did harm monsters - Odysseus had blinded Polyphemus with a tree trunk. It was simply that celestial bronze, imperial gold, and stygian iron were far more effective at it, and thus more popularly used despite rarity.

Dakota was much smarter than that though. He'd won many a fight before against other demigods because they didn't expect him to break their bones with rocks, steel bars, and baseball bats. It was certainly effective against the harpies, breaking their wings and dropping them to the earth. A few more pieces striking their heads quickly ended their lives, returning them to the hell from which they had whence came.

Continuing on, swinging a little bit with each step, the vampiric appearing drunkard was wandering slightly off course. Just slightly. It was not so much as to be so far away from the group that harpies would attack him because no one was close enough to help him.

Those harpies didn't exist. Not in his mind. They had once, maybe, but considering the dissipating piles of golden dust behind his meandering path definitely made sure they weren't. The others were used to him disappearing and reappearing. He always went back. No other group of people would tolerate his addictions.

He didn't want to remember. That was it. That was all he wanted.

All the foolish acting made things much simpler, getting everyone to underestimate him. But that gamble never worked with the ones who had trained him. He had almost been a leader, but …

Nope. Never again.

He'd rather find that warehouse that had stocked up on kool-aid and candy …

* * *

Reyna wasn't having the greatest of times.

She hated intruded on people. Period. She had found, when she was a little girl, that she had very much liked to lead people. It was satisfying, being able to lead her fellow kindergartners in art projects. Things were so much simpler back then, where she could draw herself riding a peanut butter horse and hunting with her precious dogs. And she would dictate to everyone else what was needed to be done to make mini models of it, and …

Reyna disliked people. For some reason, she could understand them really well. She would always be able to tell, and then convince them, help them, boost them. They would perform better, but only when focused on her goal. She could feel them happy, as her fellow little girl friends sculpted little dachshunds that they imagined themselves owning, and it filled the emptiness in her heart. She found it so hard to empathize with people. She could understand most everyone's drives, the whats, wheres, whens, whys, and hows of the whos. But she found herself incapable of caring, because they simply weren't important to her. All except her sister, whom she had lost so long ago.

And now, well. She so desperately wanted to be involved with everyone else. She finally wasn't forced to work alone, or as some kind of leader. It was so much easier to follow behind someone she could trust. She liked being the leader, maybe, but it was nice to be able to kick back and enjoy some rest while someone else took the handles. That someone being Percy.

Most everyone, she felt, was eh. Not bad, just that she didn't really feel strongly for them. Lee and Leo were tolerable and Julia great to look after but it was more responsibility. Even now she was getting stuff that Julia asked for. Dakota was interesting to work with, and had hidden depths, so ok there. Rachel was just frustrating to deal with, with cocked eyebrows and teasing statements everywhere; Anna was getting on her nerves because of … well, Reyna didn't like thinking about it. Nope. Then there was Taia and Percy.

As Reyna picked up a bottle of lemonade to take for herself, she watched the two. Despite the red and black mismatch of hair, she could see them actually being siblings. At first, she had suspected that Taia had liked Percy. If it weren't for sneaking back to watch them kiss a few months ago, and overhearing that they didn't like each other in that way, she found herself happy. She hadn't even revealed who she was back then, but …

She would call it Stockholm Syndrome, and it kind of was. But truly, her situation was much better than it used to be, fighting to be the best of the best in the Roman group. The Romans had become a pack, much like Lupa's wolves. However, there were just far too many vying alphas aiming for the top, and it was practically chaos. Gladiator duels to ascend in position, which were pretty much the biggest entertainment available. Killing smaller groups of demigods because they were weaker, forcing them to be slaves and fight for the Romans or even, she heard … raping them.

And so she felt herself slowly, slowly, ever so slowly falling for Percy. At first she was worried that Aly, or since then changed to Taia, was going to be competition. But no, it was Anna.

The thing about crushing on someone was that you could start to see how others felt for said crush. Even if Reyna hadn't witnessed Taia and Percy deciding not to enter into a relationship, she was already suspecting a sibling bond. Dakota was extremely devoted to Percy, though for reasons she wasn't exactly sure of. Rachel enjoyed being with Percy, but it seemed more often to be just poking fun and joking around. Lee was somewhat distant - probably because of the Minotaur snub; Leo was half worshipful towards the Son of the Sea after having a water versus fire duel. Julia treated everyone the same, so that just left Anna …

Who was in much the same position as her. Centuries in the Huntresses, with near no male contact most of the time. Perhaps the girl had been very anti-boy when she started, but it was extremely evident that her opinion had changed. Maybe Anna had seen too many manipulative, extremist, girls? Reyna had seen plenty back at the Roman camp. Fact was, Anna was practically obsessing over Percy. Had the girl never met a half-decent guy before?

Sheesh. The albino was watching Percy even now, as he joked around with Leo at some video game stand.

Well, actually … considering the view of that cute behind, Reyna could understand why Anna was looking. Not excuse, but certainly understand. Because, well , mhmmmm … booty.

He got the booty.

* * *

He had been searching for months for the message, but it wasn't until now he had finally found it.

God, Lee was tired of just shooting arrows around the bunker. He missed the constant outdoorsiness of the Hunt, he missed his friends Will, Michael, Victoria, he missed everything about it.

Percy was a good guy, but Lee didn't want to follow him. He didn't want to have to follow the guy's rules and orders and didn't want to have to grab the canned foods he was getting. Lee missed hunted meat, of deer and of rabbit that weren't plentiful around Bunker 9.

He didn't want to sleep in the rafters of his room in a hammock, which was the only place comfortable enough for him. Percy and Taia roomed together; Rachel and Anna and Julia roomed together. Dakota snored too loudly for anyone to room with him in peace, and Leo stayed up late and loud as the Fields of Punishment. And just why would he ever consider being in the same room as Reyna? No. Just no.

But finally, a white crow had brought a message to him, gibberish that he decoded to reveal the next city to convene at.

It was time to leave. He had his weapon with him, he had supplies with him, he would make it. Just … Lee still had the crow. He would tell it to leavesend a message at Bunker 9back. They had helped him a lot, after all.

* * *

The crow flapped its wings and took to the skies, paper trailing from a leg. However, it actually didn't go far. Instead, it only flew a block, to a certain green-eyed boy.

Percy hadn't recognized the messenger, but took the message anyways. It was rather intuitive, seeing a bird land before you with paper tied to a leg. It was a little difficult with the dove-like crow hopping around a bit, but oh well.

The message wasn't something he wanted to share out in the open. It was time to get back to Bunker 9.

Well, after everyone got some new hyped restaurant that sold Cchips, Ppots, and Lleis. He didn't entirely understand why some Mexican Grill place would sell that stuff though.

* * *

As Rachel trailed behind the group, realizing that Lee had left permanently - she had seen the signs, not to mention other things - she noticed another sheet of paper - more a strip than anything else, on the ground.

Perceptive as ever, she picked up the paper as she tried to calculate exactly what occurred. Anna hadn't noticed anyone else leaving tracks around here, so whoever dropped the message was stealthy. Stealthy meant smart, stealthy meant dangerous.

And the message?

_Athena unwilling to leave study. Check up on Titan prisons, rumors of escape are worrying._

* * *

**Miranda's Take on the Author Notes**

**I'm too tired for this.**

Alright. Do you need some sleep?

**No. But could we just close off now?**

Just let me speak, alright dear?

**Just go and do it.**

Alright. Guest reviewer, yay for League of Legends. Everyone else, please review, favorite, and follow. Also, go visit paradoxed's profile to vote on the poll if you haven't yet. The poor exhausted guy has been working on that stuff too, I think it'll be interesting. Will I be in the story, author?

**Shut up please.**

Oh well. Updated 7/25/15


	8. KoK V1 C7

Individual commitment to a group effort - that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work. - Vince Lombardi

* * *

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clockmaker shook his head in confusion. The sky outside looked to be mid afternoon, yet almost all of his devices were reading almost midnight. If it he lived in Alaska, he could possibly blame the long summer days, but he lived in Wisconsin, and it was spring.

Had someone perhaps played a practical joke on him? But that would have required massive amounts of effort, because there were over a hundred clocks with different mechanisms sitting around his shop. The clockmaker had noticed some lag as of the past month, and fixed those individually. But now the majority of his clocks looked at least to be reading five hours later than what the sky told.

Pulling out his iPhone, he rubbed his face with further confusion. Did he drink anything the previous night?

With all the toting of the wonderful new device, he had bought one. He had set it to his local timezone, but at the moment it was reading something the man couldn't even comprehend. Counting the date a free hand, the clockmaker fingered slowly until he reached what he believed to be the date. Looking back at the device, the man recounted, before shaking his head and massaging his temple. Walking behind the counter to pull out a calendar, the confunded man checked off days with a pen slowly, before hitting his head on the desk repeatedly.

According to the newfangled device, both his merchandise clocks and his biological clocks were telling him something completely wrong. The actual time was reading a full week ahead of what he had counted in sunrises and sunsets. What the bloody hell?

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 106 Cont.

I've fricken lost track of all the bloody shit that's happened over this thrice damned week.

I sound like Alytaia, but I don't care.

* * *

It was dark - very dark.

Not stormy yet, Leo noted, but definitely so pitch black that he couldn't even see his hand alight with flame before his face. At least he believed his hand was flaming, and that it was in front of his face.

Hopefully he was coordinated enough to do that. But he couldn't find his belt either, and that would be something to panic about for sure.

_Man, I was totally right to be paranoid. _He thought to himself. Yes, he did have some reminiscent of sense when it came to stealth. _I totally shouldn't have taken that nap. I still had about 7 different ways to jack myself up with caffeine. Where's sunshine, here, man?_

Well, it was really quite too late for him to do anything about it, and admittedly he did need sleep. He himself didn't know how long since the last time he had slept. He did know that he had started to see himself working on multiple things - and perhaps a few extra mechanical dragons around. Was that healthy?

Well, he certainly didn't know. It wasn't like he'd ever been taught anything about human biology. That stuff was life science, and he was a physical science kind of guy.

Then again, he did know that not being able to control his own body was a serious issue. Perhaps if he didn't know that this was a dream he'd be a lot more scared that an eidolon was possessing him (he'd encountered them before - a witch doctor in Austin pulled out the nasty thing), but as of now he was perfectly fine and dandy.

After all, the best course to take right now was to follow whatever the dream would tell him. No matter if he couldn't see anything as he was walking …

Actually, there was something whispering now. Something that was too soft to hear. Leo strained his ears, trying to see into the absolute pitch black. It was playing with his mind, making the sound muffled, muffled, muffled …

But then he could hear the speech. It wasn't whispering, no. Somehow, it wasn't. It was almost like a muffle, really, or that he was deaf. But …

_**one must die one must die one must die one must die one must die**_

That didn't seem pleasant at all. Seriously, what was Leo going to get from this dream? He couldn't see anything at all, and he felt like he was walking in circles - he had turned a few times.

_**one must die one must die one must die one must die one must die**_

At this rate he was going to go mad - skata, he really should have took the caffeine pills and downed it with coffee.

_**one must die one must die one must **_

And then he saw himself. The chant ceased, and now he could hear nothing at all but his heart beat.

But not the heart within his chest. No, he could feel the thrumming boom that pulsed in time with the bleeding figure before him, one not shown like a mirror but instead chained by the feet to something hidden by darkness. He saw himself with at least several broken bones, bruises blue and purple spread across his lanky exposed frame. Unconscious, huddled protectively over something he could only glimpse. Was it bronze?

He inched closer, approaching himself until he was forcibly halted two feet away - before becoming aware of a smell. Something spicy? Turning, he spotted another figure injured exactly like he was, appearing on his right. He gasped.

She was beautiful. Dirty blond hair was marred by stains of sticky blood, and she only wore a torn gold braid wrapped around an equally scarred white dress. The girl's face was paler than bone - was it from blood loss? Her expression was blank, however - one the result of unconsciousness. Leo could see the emptiness in the dark almond eyes, the soft relaxed muscles of the face. She looked just about his age.

Damn, how'd he get locked up with this hottie?

**die one must die one must die one **

And then the voices went straight back into his head, fully reminding him that circumstances wouldn't be so good. What? When would this happen?

A red haze bled over the black background, somehow. How did darkness bleed? The crimson color washed over everything in moments, flooding the room and his vision until -

**die one must die ONE MUST DIE ONE MUST DIE ONE MUST DIE ONE MUST D-**

* * *

ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP.

"Holy Hephaestus and Mother of Monsters, OW!"

Turning furiously, Leo's ire was forestalled by the cute visage of the girl he spoiled so dearly.

"Percy called a meeting and told me to wake you up," Julia said sweetly, doe eyes peering back at him without any evident guile. What was probably more distracting, however, was the bright red plasma charge gathering near her right hand.

"Ok, ok! I'm going, I'm going!" Leo cried as he hurdled over the table he had been sleeping on. He had rescued it out of one of the supply closets not too long ago, and he had yet to name it too. "I'll clean you up later, Billy Joe, I hope the others picked up the Windex I asked for."

The Son of the Smith darted out of the hanger and towards the meeting hall room, completely missing the table jump into the air in anger, dumping off all the spare parts he had left on the piece of furniture. Nor did he see Julia quietly tiptoe over and pet the table affectionately. "Don't worry Buford, I'll save you if he tries anything." And with that, she went outside to watch the full moon rise during burning sunset.

Hurtling the corner, Leo burst into a meeting room. It was his favorite, behind the hangar with all of its knick knacks and tools. As the fairly large chamber was next to the kitchen, it was both the dining room (he was starting to learn how to cook pretty well from Rachel, who was splendid at making breakfast) as well as the general meeting area. What made the room his second favorite, though, were the decorative holograms that were projected on the walls. From the skylines in Manhattan to the waters of the Great Lakes to the scenery of Yosemite Valley were possible from day to day. Leo wasn't sure how the mechanism worked, and how it got those images, but he would find out some day.

Yet today the beauty of the many surreal red rock formations that surrounded him was lost by what he could read from the mood of the group. As tempted as he was to crack out a joke, the increase in contact with people had increased his social sensibility somewhat, and he chose to sit down almost cautiously in his usual seat.

From his perspective at one end of the circular table, he could clearly see Percy's contemplative face considering the worn grains of the wood surface as he fiddled with a piece of paper. Taia naturally sat on his left, Reyna just past her. The eternal duo Dakota and Rachel sat on Percy's right. Anna was next to Reyna, looking somewhat disgruntled for some reason or another. Perhaps because she was looking for Julia? Leo was supposed to sit next to Julia and Lee, and Leo in turn was supposed to sit next to Rachel.

Except that Lee wasn't here. Bobby was sitting in Lee's seat. "Hey guys, where's Lee?"

Leo gulped as everyone turned to stare at him. Maybe making a joke would have been less awkward? He was literally heating up - his hands were smoking from all the negative attention.

Luckily, Percy drew attention away from him, and Leo sighed with temporary relief. "As we all have noticed, and Leo so directly pointed out, Lee is not here. And from this note," Percy gestured offhandedly with the hand holding said paper, "I can tell you that he will no longer be with us."

* * *

A chorus of muttering sprung up - there were vague discussion between Rachel and Dakota, clouded arguing between Taia and Anna, and Bobby was mumbling something just as incoherent. However, nothing was as loud as Reyna's needlessly too loud "Good riddance."

Judging by how she cringed when Percy looked disapprovingly at her, Reyna most likely did not intend to be so loud. "Anyways," Percy continued, talking dying down, "That certainly brings up questions. Who wants to start?"

"Why'd he leave?" cut in Anna immediately.

Taia, who had snatched the note from Percy's hand to read it, offhandedly stated, "It never came up, but he was originally part of the Hunters. He got separated from them by one thing or the other, then was caught by Romans. We ended up saving him, and picked up Reyna at the same time."

Anna understood immediately. "So that's why they never got along."

"Wait, what? Who are the Hunters?" questioned Leo.

"They're the male version of the Huntresses. Why don't you know this?" Bobby countered in a near lackadaisical manner.

Leo sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Never came across them, never learned about them. Hell, only learned about the Huntresses when everyone else showed up. So I guess my Pokemon buddy left because the Hunters passed by?"

"Thank the gods they didn't. They give two options to smaller groups - join, or disband. And since disbanding generally gets demigods picked off by other groups and monsters …" Rachel interjected.

Dakota followed up, "They're nicer thaaan others, but still not someone to meet."

"Why did Reyna dislike Lee?" Bobby asked with some curiosity.

Noticing everyone waiting for her to answer, Reyna spoke up. "My group captured him, and months after all that happened I tried to apologize to him. But he outrightly just ignored me."

"That's fricken it?" Anna said incredulously. "Hell, I disliked him because he made fun of me for being Roman born when it was just us two, but your reasoning is terrible!"

"Well," floundered Reyna, "I just don't like people who don't like me. And he did archery!"

"Heh, that doesn't mean you dislike me, does it?" teased Anna.

"It's just - just - I can remember so many instances where he was a coward. There were those cyclops in Virginia, where he ditched Dakota to face them off by himself. Ditching Percy when he was being run down by the Minotaur. Damnit, even when I was still with the Romans I captured him easily because he was too busy running away from a single Laistrygonian!"

"So you thought he was weak," Percy stated simply.

Reyna deflated. "Yes. I did. I didn't think he was good enough. I can't even remember him doing anything when we fought the Huntresses."

"He did more than I did, Reyna," pushed Rachel gently, "Just relax, if he's gone, then he's gone. Those of us that knew about his past already knew he wanted to find his old crew. He had helped us when he was with us, that should be enough for you."

"And it is enough to me," continued Percy, "He even swore to not tell about where we are to his Hunter companions in his final letter - and with our pact on Styx, he can't endanger us anyways."

"Then what now?" Bobby posed the question to the group. "I still know very little, I've only been here for … has it been a week? What does it matter that he left, if I cannot see a point in what we are doing besides surviving?"

"That is the question I was waiting for - and I'm sure Anna was waiting for it too."

Percy stood up, pulling out his standard everyday chair from under the table. He then clamored on top of it, sitting on the back support of the seat. Looking down at everyone, he began purposefully.

"You see - this group started with only the intent to survive. My partnership with Taia was that, two years ago. So was meeting everyone, reaching the number of six with Reyna. But it was at that point I wanted something more." He made sure to meet everyone's eyes, drifting from one person to the next.

"I didn't tell anyone, but the idea of becoming something more than we are just now just bloomed within me. And when I first really sat down to talk with Anna, she saw that. Somehow. And so I've been writing things down. Keeping track of other groups. We all know the Huntresses do their hunting and purging of monsters, that the Hunters simply want to be the largest and strongest group. Greeks and Romans want to beat each other, the Thief Lord wants to manage the biggest crime syndicate - etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

Percy paused, trying to collect his thoughts to present it in the best way possible. "I found out recently that the Greeks and Romans are planning to fight again. I don't know what the gods are going to do about it, but we caught on late to the news. I found out with our last foray back to the city, and Lee's letter there confirms it."

"And I'm assuming that's bad?" Leo joked halfheartedly.

"I guess that coincides with other stuff I learned today," groaned Taia, "I had picked up some coffee from some friendly monster Starbucks. I paid them a little extra for information, and they told me a lot of groups are mobilizing. Some parts of the Thieves are currently pulling out of Chicago - and leaving the city, that's a huge deal - and moving towards our general direction. There's a group of Athena kids not too far south that appear to be traveling up to meet the Thieves. Romans are moving along the coast, big time. I've heard that they fought with the Hephaestus/Aphrodite coalition in the South. What's worse, as far as I know there's some berserk group of rogue Ares kids trying to break apart the Mars camp in Texas. It's horribly chaotic right now."

"And that leads me to my point. Right now, we aren't strong enough. We're preparing for what is to come. And it's not good enough. Nine people, standing against groups of 200 like the Romans when they come looking? Even with all the traps Leo put out, we're dead."

Percy sighed defeatedly. "And I'm at a lost of what to do. There's no great purpose or prophecy that lines out a goal for us. Well, there actually is one - but it's no help."

"**By utmost divine purpose the gods shall fall, / And creatures once known will from hell crawl. / Monsters' last fight and demigods' last stand, / Total war to come only by ancient command. / The lawbreaker roaming the earth heart broken, / Future arises from bodies of immortals and men.**" Rachel recited whimsically.

"How do you know that?" accused Percy. "I've only told Taia that word for word, and from what I've learned only Chiron and Lupa know of it, and tell people of it. And, well obviously no offence from how long we've known each other, but you're mortal. How the hell would you have ever learned of it?"

"Magic," Rachel yawned out, eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Is that your answer to everything?" Taia wondered out loud.

"Perce, man, if you don't get it by now, don't bother," spoke Dakota, words surprisingly sober and clear. "Believe her or don't, as far as I've known her she's never lied."

"Yes, but half-truths are equally irritating," countered Percy, "However, the point is that the prophecy doesn't help us at all. There's no magical be all end all that we have to aim for - all we know is that trouble is coming."

"And that trouble is happening now, isn't it?" Leo put in. Everyone looked at him with a bit of shock. "Hey, I'm not that stupid. What if our current situation is demigod's last stand? Or the total war? From what you guys have been saying, the pot's been stirred, and every faction of demigod is preparing for the worst of the worst."

"Essentially," agreed Percy, "So I want to survive the incoming disaster. And we aren't beyond notice. Bobby, your information is relevant here?"

The warrior snapped to attention. "Earlier, while the majority of the Stygians were out, I was guarding the prisoners. Somehow, some young Son of Hephaestus burrowed in past all the defenses, and stated that he was fully aware of the base and was looking for it. Now we have another captive, but evidently there are other people that know exactly where we are."

"Then we train, don't we?" Reyna spoke up. "I think with enough of Leo's traps we could take down the hundreds that come for us, and our skills are variable enough to defend from this bunker. The kid was a Child of the Smith, so for all we know he could have been told by the god himself about this bunker to come here."

"What? That's not fair, I found this place all by myself!" whined Leo. He was ignored.

"So where are we going with this discussion? This argument is going in circles." said Anna, "No one's said anything about what we're going to do about this."

SIlence. Everyone spaced out for a few moments, considering all they had learned, before turning to look at their unspoken leader. "I never asked for this life. None of you guys did either. And I don't want anyone else to have to deal with this Hades forsaken life. We have to change the norm. We have to become strong enough to shut down this vicious cycle of war. We all heard it. The gods will fall. Perhaps it's up to us to do it. And to do that, we need allies."

"No," Taia intervened, "Not allies. More recruits. More people to fight the world with. Bring the prisoners to our cause, find people across the nation who agree with us, and are loners and outcasts."

"Become strong enough so that no one would dream of fighting us, and those that do are decimated," added Reyna.

"Prepare for fighting other demigods," sighed Dakota, "Again."

And they all sat, contemplating the scenic stones projected around them.

"Uhm … Anna?" squeaked a voice from a communication device at said girl's hips (it was the only thing Leo made Julia that wasn't obscenely dangerous).

"Yes, Julia?"

"There's some scary looking people outside."

* * *

It was a visit from a god.

And one did not simply deny meeting one face to face if said god showed up at your doorstep. Literally. Through a hidden camera outside and a security display, the Stygians could see Pan sitting almost delicately on a tree growing off the cliff face that was certainly not there before. The Lord of the Wild would be immediately visible when the hanger door opened, and was currently playing his infamously named pan flute in an all too relaxed manner.

"OK, I'm still the newbie here, so please enlighten me on how you got another god's attention," quipped Bobby, tiptoeing above the heads of the others in order to peer up at the main surveillance monitor. The area was barely larger than a king sized bed, and that was before mentioning rather cumbersome equipment that took up half of that space. So everyone was squished next to each other, with Julia dozing piggyback on Dakota.

They had yet to actually go out and talk to him, so it was arguable that Pan wasn't actually there to meet them. Except the fact that there was no other reason for him to be there. What was worse was the sheer quantity of satyrs and nature spirits hanging around every camera and trap outside, disabling them. Leo might have been a mad genius setting them up, but creatures that could sense exactly what was artificial in the environment made for the worst type of counter.

So far, a quarter of the detection equipment was trampled by satyr hooves, three fourths of the cameras were covered by dense spring foliage, and ninety percent of the functional traps were triggered by thrown stones and long poking branches. All the updated traps that Leo had been working on had yet to be implemented. Which, then again, was a good thing, because if the traps had been set then they would have also been disabled.

"Hell if I know," said Percy mildly, "Anyone got any theories on what they're doing?"

"They're taking down everything, Percy, do you have to ask?" Reyna said in disbelief.

"Well, they might only be wanting to cleanse the forest. Nature spirits are touchy on that sort of thing," contributed Rachel.

"Actually, Repair Boy, you got any audio?" questioned Taia.

"Yes. Why?" asked Leo, pushing up a slide knob on a control board and handing the redhead a pair of headphones.

"Because I'm a user of magic in music, and I'm pretty damn sure from mythology Pan can too. And there's this buzz to the sound if you're familiar with it enough that …." Putting on the device, Taia immediately almost toppled over, not having fallen only because Anna had steadied her. "Skata, it's muted by the transfer through the electronics, but there's a fricken Zeus's ego sized compulsion to talk to Pan and listen to him. The only reason I haven't yet is because I can recognize the effects of the magic and barely resist it."

"So he issssn't friendly, then," mused Dakota as he swigged … something? All that mattered was the swigging. "Go out armed, or send out aaa diplomat though?"

"Hm. Bobby, please go ensure the prisoners remain asleep," said Percy, gesturing to the screen that showed the dozing twins and child.

"You are the boss. Just gonna point out with my limited knowledge and observation of the group that Anna probably can sense something or cough up some info," shrugged the neophyte as he ambled away, "'I'll catch up on whatever she says later."

Everyone turned to look at Anna, who sighed softly. "Since the only chair in this cramped room is being hogged by Leo, let's go out to the hallway to sit."

All the rest of the Stygians squeezed out, while Leo remained in the small room, occasionally spinning in a circle to check on the monitors.

Again sighing, Anna sat down and motioned everyone else to, forming a rough circle. "The story most know is that Pan disappeared 2000 years ago. A voice was heard proclaiming that the he was dead, from an island during the era of a civilization that no longer matters. And of course, no one quite cared - except, of course, the nature spirits. So while the camps had existed, there was some sort of satyr operation from the Greeks to hunt for the lost god."

The albino pulled up her legs and hugged them, resting her chin on her knees. "Then there came the event that destroyed the camps, and all satyrs and fauns vanished. I am just as surprised to see him here right now … mainly because he shouldn't exist. He should have faded, long ago. As a Huntress, I've watched the environment be decimated by overzealous mortals taking advantage of the planet's resources."

"You have never seen the great wilderness that was destroyed with industrialization. One way gods die is when their realms of power are demolished. If that was the primary factor in Pan's death two millennia ago … I cannot see any plausible way that he would be alive now with so much more of nature lost. Sometimes I wondered if primordial nature would take its revenge upon the human race."

"And seeing him makes you suspect that," commented Rachel, casually braiding her hair.

"It can't be that bad, could it? It wouldn't hurt to at least talk to Pan," asked Percy.

"I was silent until Bobby pointed me out because I was trying to comprehend the magnitude of the aura I can feel from Pan," Anna said, "I have felt it before and the comparison from then and now would be close to the size of Festus and the Bunker we reside in. That god gained power from somewhere, despite being weakened if not dead for thousands of years. Nothing seems to make sense here, let alone how he found us."

"We stillll have to talk to him," quipped Dakota, "and I'd like to get that over with ASAP. I have other stuff to do besides quibble in fear because of some minor god."

* * *

Scientists at the Royal Observatory Greenwich were rather madly working away at an issue baffling the entire world. Over the past months, if not year, many people had been registering issue with their timekeeping devices. Of course, no one had thought much of it - sure, your watch was off by a few minutes today because the sunset was supposed to happen at 6:08 and not 6:14. But some began to see massive schisms - and now governments were funding projects to understand what in the world was going on.

As the founding laboratory of the time zones, the people working there desperately tried to isolate the cause of the issues with time keeping. They had a reputation to live up, after all. But all that was known so far was that by some cause or another, the days and nights were growing longer. It was the trick of mere minutes a day - but somehow, the hours of sunlight and nighttime were lengthening with no sign of ceasing. This wasn't the simple matter of variance of the length of days throughout a year. No, somehow, in accordance with old charts, days were gaining more and more minutes with no clear reason behind the phenomenon.

The only possible cause of that was the Earth's rotation slowing down.

And there were about 500 different reasons across the board in all scientific fields why that was something horrendous to fear.

As no one wanted to agree to that idea, even the most anti-environmentalist governments were backing research to understand the conundrum.

It was almost a shame, because almost by some divine power, the hole in the ozone was filling up. The wastes in the oceans were disappearing by some unknown process, and air pollution in even places like China somehow dissipated in the matter of hours, without any trace of the chemical nightmares left behind.

But no one noticed.

* * *

**Review, favorite, follow, beta, blah blah blah. Updated 12/24/15**


	9. KoK V1 C8

"Slavery, racism, sexism, and other forms of bigotry, subordination, and human rights abuse transform and adapt with the times." -John Prendergast

* * *

Culture change was very annoying. Things were more static nowadays, but it still did nothing to disappoint many gods whom were once more special. Their duties were relegated, ignored, forgotten. All accomplishments, struck from record to prevent worship equal to that of the current Olympians.

How very annoying. But the tide had come.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 101 (Cont.)

Trying to discuss names with Aly-Alytaia? Taia? Good lord, trying to address her now is just weird. Though Alytaia has a nice lyrical movement to it. Gotta establish some rules to it. Uh … Aly when talking to her when anyone else is there, Taia in journals, Alytaia in personal conversations? I think that should work. Just gotta remember it.

Well, beyond the Anna girl officially becoming on trial to join our crew, the day started okay. Called the Stygians to order, because we need to establish everything and at least kind of get some routine going. Breakfast was unorganized as a group of parentless kindergartners, with Leo being happy to eat fruits because he hadn't had any for a while, and Julia eating more than everyone else. Leo then gave us the extremely necessary grand tour, and I started jotting things down so that we could arrange storage for food, proper rooming for everyone, and communal areas.

Leo seemed quite happy that people were actually getting involved into his life, and even seemed to be making some control chip without paying attention to it, saying it was for some kinda assistant maid servant table he was gonna name Buford. Quite a sight, seeing him unroll an endless line of wire that he called solder from one pouch of his belt, and celestial bronze electronic bits from the other, some fingertips alight with a really bright pinpoint flame so he could weld the parts together. Lee was inspecting the catwalks or pipes above, mentioning something about hammocks or nets. I'll have to get back to him with that idea.

Aly - no, Taia, gotta remember my writing name for her - was drifting around, picking up blueprints. Not sure what she was looking for, but lots of dust flew into the air and she was sneezing (and cursing) quite a bit. We'll have to organize some kind of cleaning crew, unless Leo comes through with whatever Buford bot. Rachel was conversing with Anna. I'm not exactly sure whatever happened there, besides Rachel mentioning offhandedly to me that they talked to each other. Anna had approached me with the most sour face I think I've ever seen, before saying she was willing to go through the trial period for our group.

Personally, I'm not sure how I got Styx to agree to do that for us. Must have been naming our crew after her so we could show her influence. All I know is that I heard the melodic river in my head last night again, and her saying **Granted**. Scary voice. And Aly, I mean Taia, also heard it too. Told everyone last night, and today we all watched as Anna glowed temporarily, radiating an almost navy midnight black aura before it disappeared. They looked to be having quite an uncomfortable conversation, but I think it was most conventional for Anna to avoid males by talking to Rachel. Not that it kept her from being out of her comfort zone, because by what I know of Rachel's eyes (they're the large majority of Rachel's expressions), it seemed as if she knew something Anna didn't and was laughing at her. Not that I don't know what exactly is going on in that mortal's mind either. They were both watching over Julia, who was running around picking up interesting little bronze toy gadgets. I think I saw a mini-centaur? Reyna was trying to connect with Dakota, but I have yet to see any true progress. Maybe they did, but Dakota seemed rather sleepy at the time, if trying to still be respectful.

I established a pretty concrete schedule workload. Taia - finally got it! - and Rachel are best suited to stealing from mortals, so whenever we need the groceries we can probably depend on them. Probably get Lee and Dakota (and me because I'm not going to let them get hurt without me being there to try to prevent (and me because I'm not going to let them get hurt without me being there to try to prevent it) to help defend them when they go out, but Lee will probably be in charge of getting the catwalk pipe area in shape. Dakota is actually a really good forager, so we'll have to decide on getting the area mapped and where he can find supplies. Leo mentioned having a Civil War era map of the area in the bunker, but that likely isn't right anymore. A lot of the writing on the map had already faded, so he wasn't sure who made it. Leo is in charge of exploring the tunnels more, and I think Reyna will stay with him. She's started to nag the mechanic about something, it seemed to include something about building automatons for her? Not my problem how they get along. Anna, Julia, and I will be trying to clean up Bunker 9. It's still dusty as hell, but Leo showed up a nifty trash chute that sends all of it to some incinerator. Also gives me some time to try to connect to the anti-huntress.

Also, thank Styx the (if anyone ever reads this, never tell Leo I wrote this) genius Leo somehow got indoor plumbing to work. Judging by our attempted 'get-to-know-each-other' meeting congregation that I got everyone to agree to go along with, he has a large enough ego as it is. If I was too stupid to judge from the introduction he made. Since we have nine people so far, I just walked around to listen in. I think I'll end here, I'm laughing to hard from remembering the stupid stuff.

* * *

"So where the hell am I supposed to get the Imperial Gold for your little automaton? It's not like it grows on trees."

"Have you not looked into that side room over there? Thank Ultor you weren't in the Roman camp, you would be so worthless there."

"Hey, I'm not even a Roman! I think. Can you clarify exactly which aspect Hephaestus or Vulcan even stays in?"

"Not really."

* * *

"So, littttle one! Ever try Tic tacs?"

"Nope!"

"Whhat! How? Here, havee some of mine!"

"Do I chew on them?"

* * *

"So, Anna, have you ever build a snowman?"

"Please, you bloody ginger, could you stop asking such strange off-topic questions? First was that Harry Potter question, then whether Huntresses still get periods, and now this? What the hell are you even referring to?"

"But have you?"

"PLEASE!"

"Or maybe your name is actually Elsa!"

* * *

"Roman."

"Greek."

"You know, if we're technically children of the same god in different aspects, are we half-siblings?"

"How should I know, you bloody wimp? Go find out yourself!"

"Are we alike at all? I don't touch the music aspect, and you can't hit an arrow on the backside of an elephant if it sat on you."

"W-well at least I'm a better healer than you!"

"Says who?"

"You wanna fight? FIGHT ME, BRUH!"

"Hey! What - stop! OW!"

"Let's see just how damn well I can heal you after I pound you to bits!"

* * *

"So, not Avila, have your periods begun yet?"

Sigh. "So, Ginger, have you been in a conversation without asking something strange?"

"If you need, I picked up some tampons when we were last in town."

"... Thanks."

"Have you learned everything you need to know about sex ed yet?"

"Just give me the tampons and shut up.'

* * *

"Lee, oh just how are you my fellow Pokemon master?"

"Did you really just try to force the sounds of the name Leo into addressing me? Are you seriously that egotistical?"

"Have you caught Arceus?"

"Hell yes I did. You pick up Giratina? I personally like using the move Nightshade and Shadow Force."

* * *

"ANNA!"

"'Lo, little one."

"Call me by my name!"

"Ah, stop pouting then, Jul. Enjoy having a full stomach?"

"Yup!"

* * *

"Soo, you gonnna get Leo to set up them subwoooofers that you want?"

"Wha? How do you bloody know?"

"Youu gonna JD for us?"

"DJ, you drunkard, DJ. … And I do wanna mess around with some."

* * *

"Hello, Julia, aren't you a cutie?"

"Yes! Piggyback!"

"H-Hey - I need to breathe! I'm an archer, not a gopher!"

* * *

"So … Anna."

"Your name is Aly, I take it?"

"Yes, it is. Thank god Avila was only Reyna's middle name."

"What do you have against sharing the first letter of your name?"

"Nothing."

"..."

"..."

"So, are the males actually civil in this group? They seem alright, but I'm still not sure if I want to associate with any of them."

"... Really?"

* * *

"Dakota."

"Ave, Centuuriooon!"

"I left that camp behind me, Dakota."

"... So did I."

* * *

"So … how ya doin, Ginger?"

"You're going to have to find a better nickname, Mr. Fire-fixer. There are two gingers."

"Um … hey, Emeralds?"

"You going to flirt with Percy too? His eyes are really quite beautiful. He's over there, want me to call him over? Why are you choking on your spit?"

* * *

"Lee."

"Piss off, you bloody Roman."

"... So much for that apology I was going to give."

* * *

"You also have red hair! That's so cool!"

"Well, I dunno, Julia, your hair a damn lovely dirty blonde shade."

"I'm going to dye my hair red velvet!"

"Where in Hades are you going to get the materials?"

"Um. Ooooh. Hm. Uhhhhh."

"Hehehe. So cute!"

"Stop laughing at me, meanie! Go shove that flute up your-"

* * *

"Deep breaths. Just an insignificant little male."

"Whaaa? Who yooooou calling little? I'll show you littttle!"

"A sexual innuendo already?"

"Innnnuuuuendo? Whattaya mean? Am I not the biggest and tallest of the biggest and baddest of the Stygians?"

"Oh. Um. Sorry."

"Dirty mind, Huntress. Dirty mind."

* * *

"So, tool boy. Make me a sound system."

"Why should I, Ginger?"

"What do you call Rachel if I'm Ginger?"

"Freckles."

"Why not Emeralds?"

"AArg-cough-ugh-urk-"

"What the hell did you choke on?"

* * *

"What happened with you?"

"Oh! A female. Thank Artemis! Huh, that sounds really weird."

"Why?"

"Um … no matter. More importantly, what do I do if I accidentally imply someone is perverse but come out as perverse myself?"

"Um … I would say apologize, but considering my attempt just now I don't know if they'll accept it."

* * *

"Why'd you pull out the liquid diabetes, sugar monster?"

"Whyyy won't youu let Avila … or was it Reyna? Why didn't you let her apologize?"

"I don't want any apology or pity."

"I guessss I'll answwer your quesstion thennn. I may have or may not have just called a once huntress a pervert."

"Good luck protecting your privates."

"I'llll," swig, "need it."

* * *

"MAKE ME TOYS!"

"YOU MAKE ME TOYS!"

"STOP BEING A LITTLE GIRL!"

"YOU STOP BEING A LITTLE GIRL!"

"I AM A LITTLE GIRL, STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"I - ew! YOU STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"THEN MAKE. ME. A. TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!"

"FINE. HERE'S A LOW POWERED LASER!"

"Thank you!"

* * *

"We now begin the congregation of the almighty gingers."

"The session is in order! How goes the soul sucking, my fellow but much more insane redhead?"

"Very well, thank you very much. My succubus powers are confusing all that I meet."

"… At first I was rolling with it, but now I just think you're a really bloody freaky mortal."

"Prepare the weapon, my comrade. We shall use it to bombard the captain! Now, the session is complete! Thank you for attending."

* * *

"Hold onto their anger, Luke, one must not. Drawn to the dark side, one will be."

"Rachel, did you forget my name is Lee?"

"That's what you got out of all I said?"

* * *

"Thank Styx this is it for me."

"And what will you do after? Practice flute?"

"And what will you do? Imagine how it's like having pet dogs?"

"Touche."

"…"

"There is no way all that gum will fit in your mouth."

"Whach meh."

"Watch you? Watch you do what?"

"Fwoosh. Fwoosh."

"Guess your music training does help in some things. Now, I'm going to find my last introduction partner before that blows up with spit in front of my face."

* * *

"Ah, look at you. Had fun, did you?"

"Oooh, look at thaat loooovely face. Myy best frieend!"

"Your oldest friend. Have you tried Icebreakers yet? I think you might like them."

"Now wee're talkiiing!"

* * *

"So were you a Hunter?"

"Are you less of a man-hater than the Huntresses?"

"Are you implying that all Huntresses are misandrists?

"Are you saying they aren't?"

"Well … they were getting a bit much. It's not necessary to kill every male, just those that are disrespectful due to gender or occupation. Because anyone who decides to act as a complete superior just because of sex or calling archers weak deserve to be hunted."

"Agreed. Especially on the latter."

"Huh. You've exceeded my expectations."

"I'm sure I'm supposed to be offended."

"Heh. Sorry."

"It's fine."

"…"

"…"

"Not a conversationalist?"

"Not sure what to say. And I feel like hunting jackalopes."

* * *

"Uh … where did you get a laser from?"

"ZAP!"

"Julia! Don't point that at me!"

"Let's play 'Fry the Roman!'"

"Shit! LEO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, OR SO HELP ME MARS, I WILL TEAR OFF YOUR ARM!"

* * *

"Iiiis that Reeeyna?"

"Hide me. Please."

"Yooou flirted with heeer, and then you giiive a laser a fiiive year old. Good luck."

"ZZZAAAPPP!"

"Mommy."

* * *

A mild chase ensued for ten minutes, full of zaps and screams, before ending with two rather loud pops. One being Aly's bubble, who cursed and restarted, and the other being Leo's arm.

* * *

"Now now, Julia. Give me the laser."

Yawn. "I'm sleepy, Red."

"Yes, yes, time for a nap. Just let me put down the laser first."

* * *

"So you're the last male."

Sizzle. "Oh yessiree I am, beautiful."

"Another flirtatious word out of your mouth, and I will dislocate your other arm."

Gulp. "So that's why my arm isn't moving?"

"And I will fix that one if you never flirt with me again. If you break your word, I will dislocate both arms for you."

"Thanks, cutie."

"…" POP.

"HEPHAESTUS'S HAMMER, OW!"

* * *

Percy, in his own personal meetups, decided to talk with Alytaia first, due to her having finished. It is rather difficult to hold conversation, though, when the other person is trying to blow the largest bubblegum bubble possible. "Everything went alright?"

"Fwoosh," slow, careful, nodding, "Fwoosh."

Contemplating the now foot wide pink bubble of breath, Percy asked, "Can I have a piece?" More nodding, and a piece of gum was handed between the two. "Best of luck, I'm gonna go talk to Lee." Still more nodding.

"Hey, Lee. Everything go ok?"

The boy was rummaging through the scores of silver arrows snatched by Dakota, seeming to group them in tens. He was currently about a quarter way through the pile, and had already made quite a few stacks. "Yeah, yeah. Anna took quite a few arrows to use. I'm busy, go talk to Rachel."

"Um … okay. Rachel, had fun?"

"Julia sure did," said Rachel airily, pulling a blanket over the slumbering 5 year old, "And Anna is mightily interesting. You should talk to her last."

"Alright, I'll leave you be. Where's Dakota?" Percy's eyes traced the direction of where Rachel pointed, to land on the also slumbering eldest of the Stygians. "Never mind. Reyna seems to be bribing Leo for something to fix his arms, so where did Anna go?"

"Pushed the door open and propped it so she could come back in. I think she went to go look at the moon."

"Alright. Thanks, Rachel."

A knowing smile was all he received in return.

"Rachel, you're frightening me."

The smile only increased in level of mischief, as her eyes drifted to above his head.

POP.

A large bubble about a foot and a half in size popped over his head, leaving a sticky, stringy, mess. He could hear both utterly soulless gingers chortling, and the Son of Poseidon simply gave up and turned to go out the door, strapping a water canteen to his waist on the way.

Once outside, the boy looked up to see the moon glowing brightly, despite only waxing. The stars were now visible, and constellations cut through the gloom of the shadowy cliff. Propping the door again with a metal chunk that Anna had used, he turned to see a ladder made of silver arrows shot into the stone, leading to the top of the cliff about a hundred feet up.

"Thankfully I'm not afraid of heights," Percy grumbled, climbing up carefully. In about five minutes, he reached the top, having rushed in order to more quickly rid his hair of the gunk. "Really should have done it before going to see Anna."

Pulling out the canteen, he focused and pulled out the liquid, before manipulating it carefully to pull the gunk off his hair. He was completely aware of the extremely soft giggling to his right, where Anna had stopped gazing at the sky to watch him struggle through his predicament. "I trust you find this quite amusing?"

"Perhaps," she said. Stifling her laughter with a hand to her mouth, the albino haired girl once again raised her red hued eyes to the sky, watching the heavens high above.

Realizing she had stopped paying attention, Percy carefully wadded the gum, which turned out to be a decent Christmas tree ornament sized sphere. Tossing it, it flew towards the girl arm. However, he was disappointed when the newcomer to their group simply caught the ball of gunk and threw it right back at his face. Anna was now fully blown out laughing, watching the normally more reserved Percy trip on the plateau peak of the clip as he once again tried to remove the gum from his facial area.

"I don't suppose we can actually hold a conversation now?" asked Percy, getting up and sitting down next to the petite girl. The boy tossed the gum down the wall, and both watched as it splatted onto the ground near the door.

"I suppose," said Anna, quietly contemplating the boy before her as she turned to look at the sky once more.

"So why did you leave the Huntresses like how you said?" immediately began Percy, watching the girl to see her reaction. "Sure, you found yourself annoyed that the group was beginning to become a female supremacist group. But wasn't it already?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure it began like that. The Lady is much like that, even abusing her own twin for being male. I was once just like so, killing many boys just like you. Sons of Poseidon too." she said, now matching Percy eye to eye, crimson meeting sea-green. "But times change. I changed. It's difficult to justify such, especially when one witnesses females act exactly like the males you hate. Is it worth becoming a hypocrite, Son of the Sea, to defeat your enemies? Should you become like them to defeat them?"

Percy's eyes averted, unnerved by Anna's question, and her overall intensity. While not being the most attractive person he had ever seen, Anna was actually much like Taia - pretty but forgettable, as if trying to camouflage rather than stand out. The boy could see the practical purpose of it, seeing as the girl used to be a Huntress. "I suppose … no. I haven't had to consider such, really. I'm merely trying to get my friends and I to survive right now."

"And is that it?" Anna pursued, her voice cutting into Percy's musings as the boy once again met the ancient girl's (or woman's?) eyes, "I not only joined you because Julia did, but because you seemed to have more purpose than everyone that I have met this far. Even when there were camps, the Greeks and Romans only did what the gods told them to do. They fulfilled asinine quests given by the Olympians, but still were torn apart after the mortal World War II. Even now, they only focus on surviving, trying to continue the legacies of old when so much has changed.

"The thing about the Hunt, Perseus Jackson," said the albino, glowing with emotion and passion. In fact, she was beginning to regain a bit of the silver glow of the Huntresses. Latent, or had Artemis failed to rescind her gift? "Is that it is about change. Adaptation. Worthy prey learns. There is a certain monster that I have once encountered. I never defeated it, never told anyone else of it. I named it KhazOmichli - Haze -, for it was so alien. It was like a large buginsect, but was capable of human speech."

Percy could only watch, entranced by the wild gestures Anna made. "It spoke, constantly mentioning consuming to adapt. Isolating and devouring. A creature worth hunting, one of malevolence, to destroy the world. One of the true monsters of old, born during the ages of the Protogenoi. Gaea? Tartarus? As old as they. I have yet to see it again, but for a very long time I have grown more and more discontent with the Huntresses, watching as they strive to remain of the ignorant of the constant growth of mortals, and of the strife of the gods. I wish to become more involved, Perseus, and I believe you can help me. And perhaps I can find that creature again."

Gaping, Percy tried to coherently respond. "Um … I'm flattered, and I do indeed have plans. But this has only been your first day with us. Same with Leo, and Julia is too young to know of them yet. I'm sure that you understand I cannot fully trust you? I only completely trust Aly, and that is due to a rather rushed Oath on Styx. Relationships don't turn out the best because of that, Anna. I do hope I can help, because I plan on changing how we demigods live."

Anna smiled softly, at the boy who seemed to prefer honesty rather than trying to impress her and assure her of success. "Then I, Anna di Notte, will wait. There has to be something special about the boy who managed to ensnare Styx's attention. And if Aly finds it too annoying for me to share the same first letter of her name, then feel free to call me D., for my own middle name. I heard her mention something about Avila being a middle name earlier."

Percy laughed, gazing up at the stars. "If you prefer it over Anna."

The girl smirked, holding in a chuckle. "I'm no more used to it than Anna."

The girl relaxed onto her back, her khopsickle at her opposite side and staring up at the stars. She listened as Percy stood and said, "I think I'm going to head back down. It's been a long day getting everything established. Head back down soon? Long time immortal or not, be careful."

Percy stepped off, beginning to descend the path of arrows. "I'm as human as I can be right now, Perseus. And one last thing, before you get any further?" The boy paused at the edge of the cliff, hovering on the top of a ladder of approximately 80 arrows. "There was a single companion in my time with the Huntresses whom I very much enjoyed the company of. Her reasoning for being there is childish, but she the most level-headed of them all. I ask in her place, what is your favorite constellation?"

Percy considered the question, answering, "Before I answer, I would like to know if she chased you to us."

"No."

"Then it would be the following." Pulling out an arrow from the rock with slight difficulty due to positioning and depth of embedment, he lightly tossed it over to the albino girl. "I'll put it in the plans to make some path up here to make things easier. Good night, D."

The once huntress sat up, considering the arrow now laying on the ground next to her. Holding it up, she aligned it in the sky. "Well," Anna muttered to herself, a grin for her long time friend Zoe Nightshade in place, "at least it's not Hercules himself, if an arrow he shot."

In the sky, _Sagitta _the Arrow gleamed, once poised to strike at the Eagle _Aquila_, sent by Zeus to feed upon Prometheus's liver.

* * *

"How is this the best place to congregate, of all things?"

The Nine Muse impromptu concert in the street seemed to be rocking hard, the music echoing far and wide. However, past a certain point, the illusion caused by the music was penetrated and minor gods and goddesses were leading a very heavy debate.

"Because the Olympians are busy and would never suspect!"

The voices of the hubbub twisted and turned, but by magic from one deity or another everyone understood what was said. After all, they wished for more. Janus, who had been so minor in Greek mythology, missed his equality with the Olympians themselves in the Roman age. Very much the same could be said by Bellona, who lost so much of her power to Athena, who many gossiped about breaking her virgin oath. The Olympians were far stronger than most here, but they were few.

They would have to be careful not to sleep. Hypnos, Bellona, Morpheus, Janus, and Hecate lay waiting, bolstered by Nemesis in their need for equality and justice. And they would succeed. The Olympians had sheer power, but the minors had numerical advantage. And Fortuna was on their side as well.

* * *

**Julia's Take on the Author Notes**

**Holy shit this chapter was hard to write.**

LANGUAGE.

**Weren't you sleeping?**

Yes.

**Is that the laser toy?**

Yes.

**Just go over there to play, ok? There's cookies too.**

COOKIES!

**Thank god. Anyways, Daylight PC, I don't get your name wrong. Not at all. If you take the offer for being Rickman, read over some of it again and tell me what you think of the fun stuff. Sariah Barron, it's always nice to include Zeus's charioteer from the original Titan War. And thanks a bunch.**

YUMMY!

**Best finish up so I can keep her from going sugar crazy. Um, dogbiscuit, Leo is Leo. Fun stuff, and the thing for Festus was a bit rushed but I realized it needed to be done otherwise it wouldn't make sense. To you and bluechocolatemilk (is that a reference toward Percy liking blue food and you liking chocolate milk?), Anna is actually based off Diana from League of Legends, one of my favorite characters from pretty much the only computer game I play. Awesome work into her character construction by the game developers (and IronStylus), personally cannot take the credit besides my little twist. It is also where her weapon comes from, beyond the recurve bow. The seduction was not exactly something assignable to hunters of old, just Anna. Tried to establish that this chapter. Thank you for complimenting my mixing, dogbiscuit, and blue (I'm just going to keep to blue from now on, or Taia if you wish and comment about it), just keep watching her. If you think you have any revelations, I ask you PM me instead of commenting so it can remain clandestine. Even though your PM is disabled. Also, your little comparison for Leo didn't show, so I ask that you fix that. Thanks very much! To everyone else!**

FOLLOW, REVIEW, FAVORITE! IT GETS ME MORE COOKIES! UPDATED 6/25/15.

**SLEEP! Edited 7/15/15**


	10. HotM V2 C1

_Hunt of the Maelstrom V2_ _C1_

This version of _Hunt of the Maelstrom_ was retrieved from 7/28/15, along with the following few chapters. It had transformed a lot in the half-year, and the introductory section describing the gods I recall being in the earlier versions and was reused in future material. There are a lot more worthwhile concepts buried in the over the top spectacle which will hopefully be pulled forward to other works. I didn't have the drive to write something so closely tied to canon, despite the advantages of comparative characterization that comes with 'following' the original storyline. However, the biggest roadblock was trying to set up too much rather than write the immediate story, which led to the eventual abandonment.

* * *

Summary:

The prophecy must be fulfilled - no matter what the cost. The Olympians' fear of what is to come is outweighed by their desire to eliminate that fear, and now the Child of Prophecy must be found. But in the wake of the desperate hunt, ancient demons stir from the eternal depths. In the end, isn't the only lesson to learn from history that humanity doesn't learn from history at all?

* * *

[insert disclaimer that you find in every reasonable fanfiction writer's work]

"In regard to the depth of the water, I could not see how this could have been ascertained at all in the immediate vicinity of the vortex … The depth in the centre of the [Mael]strom must be immeasurably greater; and no better proof of this fact is necessary than can be obtained from even the sidelong glance into the abyss of the whirl which may be had from the highest crag … Looking down from this pinnacle upon the howling Phlegethon below, I could not help smiling at the simplicity with which the honest Jonas Ramus records, as a matter difficult of belief, the anecdotes of the whales and the bears; for it appeared to me, in fact, a self-evident thing, that the largest ships of the line in existence, coming within the influence of that deadly attraction, could resist it as little as a feather the hurricane, and must disappear bodily and at once." -Edgar Allan Poe (Descent into the Maelstrom)

* * *

The gods exist in a manner of unprecedented _power_.

Zeus? He hurls his lightning bolts without tire, bolts that carry nearly 15,000,000 volts of electricity on average. The plasma from the bolts heats the surrounding air to 60,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Furthermore, let us not forget that lightning is not a single target weapon, but instead strikes dozens if not hundreds. Tornadoes touch down to let the rain and the hail fall upon the earth; to let the lightning flash across the sky before the roar of thunder hits, to let gale force winds blow apart structures meant to stay grounded. The Earth is sheltered by an atmosphere, the majority of which is 10 miles from the crust of the earth. Inescapable, unless of course you wish to head elsewhere ...

Poseidon? Oceans cover the majority of the planet. Within the depths is another world that scientists know less of than outer space. 326,000,000,000,000,000,000 gallons of liquid water upon this planet, of which contains monsters forgotten to history, or that simply never chose to leave the darkness. Trenches scour the ocean floor, the Mariana Trench is nearly 7 miles deep. Less distance than the sky? The pressure exerted in that abyss is over 1000 times more than the pressure exerted on the surface of the earth by air. The sea is dark, the sea is dangerous. Meanwhile, the tsunamis, the hurricanes, the earthquakes ... pure destruction that reach from water to land. Speaking of land ...

Hades? Not specifically the lord of the Earth, but of the Underworld. Countless souls inhabiting his realm, along with the wealth of the earth ... diamonds upon sapphires upon rubies upon emeralds, and titanium upon gold upon silver upon iron, the ground is rich. Add in control of the earth, of such disastrous powers ... succinctly put, power over the dead that numbers many times more than the living, richness beyond anything on Olympus, and the power to sink civilization.

Those are just the elder three, there are others, others to fear, many others to fear who reside in the Olympian throne room.

Hephaestus, the smith of the gods. The power of ingenuity, for more and more weapons and tools are created every moment. First there were swords, spears, and shields. Now? Welcome to the modern age of machine guns, explosives, and electronics. (It's a shame, the modern weapons draw so many monsters, or they would be used more.)

Ares, the warmonger who becomes a nightmare of demons with rage galore. Perhaps he retreats the moment he is injured ... but I wish luck to even scratching his ankle. He is the embodiment of war, the father of fear and terror.

Hermes, the messenger, the traveler, the thief, the owner of one high powered light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation. Zap. He is most likely as devious as

Athena, the only reason we don't have evidence is that he's so busy delivering mail ...

Apollo, the healer, the sun, the musician, and the archer. One of two, at least. If his archery is not deadly, his poetry is. Very much so. I hear he's going to visit Japan to heal some of the injured there. Hopefully he doesn't pick up something terrible.

Hera has been long feared for her hatred for demigods, especially those of Zeus's. She may not seem dangerous, but if you examine exactly how Heracles was punished ... not to mention fertilizer left everywhere you go to curse you.

Demeter is the source of the coming seasons, of the growth of our crops. It would not do well to anger her, Hades has already done a lot to cause the seasons. And there is something definitely frightening in her mania for cereals.

Athena, who was the patroness of Athens, one of the greatest cities of old. Her intelligence empowers her, she carries Victory in her palm, she devises plans that bring forth and destroy empires. She found a way to circumvent her oath ... the mind at its strongest.

Many dismiss Aphrodite, but she is older than all the other Olympians. Love, lust, desire ... those emotions are volatile. Even the gods fall before her power, all of them, so far, just excluding ... speak of the devil.

Lastly, ever so lastly, Artemis of the hunt. The very aspects of the hunt, from the moon to nature to animals, they are hers. The only goddess to almost constantly remain upon the surface of our Earth, the protector of young, vivacious, virgin girls.

The Olympians are our rulers. They are ... exceedingly powerful. They would nigh be all powerful, if not for several things. One, older powers ... two, they lack a lot of originality … three, they bind themselves in the self-enforced Ancient Laws. Thus ...

Their children are also dangerous. They are the linchpins of our society, of the power of the Western Civilization. Influencing mortals and immortals alike, they hold powers of their parent and what they wield.

Just mentioning demigods, of course. Cyclops and horses and other such creatures born from the gods are ... irrelevant to the current topic. After all, my father is Kronos ...

There are many factors of a demigod's power. Not only are they attuned to the realms of power their parent holds sway over, they develop in strange ways. I find, after years of teaching, that demigod temperaments tend to be drawn to a certain aspect of their Olympian parent' state of emotion. Sons of war beget war, daughters of love beget love.

These demigods influence everything. They led to development within Olympus, and for mortals. Their powers are everything.

With this knowledge, it is a simple matter to realize exactly how dangerous World War II was. With the children of the Big Three heading both sides of the war ... the war was a horror. Luckily, it ended last month. Ever since ancient times, conflict has only grown more and more violent.

Unfortunately, it is not an end for anything yet - a new prophecy has been made, a prophecy that foretells Olympus's fate, recited by the Oracle of Delphi. It is unwise to write it down, but … nonetheless, the words are reverberating within my head, and I need the release.

_**A half blood of the eldest gods**_

_**Shall reach sixteen against all odds**_

_**Tested and tried the half blood's soul**_

_**By wounds and scars that bear their toll**_

_**The world falls into endless night**_

_**Fate's fabric torn by mortal might**_

_**The hero's choice shall end all days**_

_**Olympus to preserve or raze**_

Considering the verses, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades have sworn not to have children. Obviously, though, if history has shown me anything these past millennia, it is that such a pact shall not hold.

Hopefully I get some respite before the next war.

~Chiron

* * *

Luke loved lightning.

He loved the flash of light, the shock of the temporary brightness and the awe of the sounding thunder. He loved the rain that drizzled down, the pitter-patter of the soft drops and the powerful splats of the heavy drops.

What he did not love was what it reminded him of.

Yet that was all he witnessed, driving north through Maine. The weather had been snowing just the other day, but now it was a lightning storm.

"Are we there yet?" If there was anyone an outsider would designate his sister, it would be her. After all, her hair color was just a slightly different shade of blond, and the difference between eye colors was not one that major. Just gray versus blue.

"No, Annabeth, we aren't. Could you stop complaining? I already let you sit shotgun." Luke said, grimacing as he fought to keep the steering wheel still. Indeed, he wasn't exactly sure that he could trust her there. Was 13 the age where you could start sitting shotgun? Or was it 14?

But with - thunder struck, louder than a gunshot - all that they faced, there really was no point arguing it. There was just so much history … but …

"I'm sorry …" muttered Annabeth, a frown marring her face as she leaned into her window, watching rivulets of rain slide down the glass. One small drop became two, then enlarged, then swallowed others as it slipped down, and away. "It's just that …"

Luke smiled, unseen by Annabeth. "I know it's been awhile since we've seen each other, Annie. But you know how important college is. How many colleges did you make me apply to?" It was really cute, his essentially sister wanting to spend so much time with him that she insisted on helping with college. Before he had to go to college, anyways.

However, his smile was lost with another flash of light, as Annabeth only further shrunk into the shotgun seat. "I know," she said, interrupted slightly by the cracking whip of thunder, "but I missed you so much. Everyday."

"Yeah, I did too …" Luke trailed off, wondering. Did Thalia miss them too? "But please don't be sad on me, Annie. Hm?"

The Daughter of Athena curled just a bit further, adjusting the air conditioning to aim the warm draft into her face. Relaxing, she muttered in asset. "Yeah … so just how was college? Have you decided on an actual major yet?"

Another flash, but distant. Luke turned down the curve of the road carefully, the light beams of the car he was driving slicing through the rain. After waiting for the soft boom of sound to pass, he pushed forward. "No," he acquiesced, "not yet. Though I've met a few interesting people. I think you would like them."

"Oh?" Annabeth said. They hadn't spoken much since Luke had picked her up, perhaps conversation peaked her interest? "Who?"

"Well, there's a great guy who's quite good at fencing, actually. Josh. I hang out with him after classes to keep up practice in swordplay." The Son of Travellers grinned at the memory brought up from the past, his numerous wins against a skilled duelist, if mortal. "And there's a really nice girl that's in my chemistry class. Quite cute, too, named Joey. It was awkward as hell asking her out, but we've been dating for two months now …"

Glancing momentarily to the side, he was taken aback by Annabeth's pronounced frown, a rather vicious look in her eyes. What was that all about? Nonetheless, he quickly refocused back on the road.

Now, though the rest of the trip was silent, neither really willing to speak. The weather was filling in the gaps with its endless waves of water, conversation was diffused by the harshness of the dazzling lightning and groaning thunder.

The weather never cleared as they approached their destination, a castle as dark and dreary as the climate. With another flash, the damp stones were illuminated - a sight almost as foreboding as the drakon he had once fought.

His scar, curved across his left cheek, tingled slightly. The boy shuddered as he parked his car, a mixture of the wetness and the unconscious reaction to the rumbling sky. He could feel an important moment was coming.

Why, if it wasn't for the fact they were on land and ascending a cliff, Luke would compare the situation to sailing into a maelstrom.

* * *

Grover was jittering on a chair near the entrance, sipping his espresso.

The satyr inhaled deeply, shivering as he detected the Wild. Oh, it was not the only scent he found. The scent of a few demigods he would never forget were nearing. They were part of the reason he had been banned from the search, after all. But he knew Pan was out there. Unfortunately, as desperately as he wished to find the satyr god, he had to successfully bring the demigods he had found. It was his last chance.

The scent of the siblings he had found frightened and excited him. They smelled so strongly of power that could be unlocked - potential equal to and beyond Thalia's. As in, the DAUGHTER OF ZEUS. He was suspicious on their parentage - who could have been the parent that gave them so much ability, latently? However, he simply could not approach and ask about such personal matters such as parents. They were at a military academy - if they weren't orphans, then their mortal parent had likely sent the siblings to the strict, dank, and musty school.

It was ever present. He could smell a hint of salt - always sea salt - yet also detected fresher, almost river water. Further sniffing revealed a scent of roses - perfume, there was always perfume - but also of earth and … shudder … death and decay. The scents were all so heavily intertwined. It was disconcerting and deceptive - the mixture was volatile, so odd and unnerving, and bespoke of danger.

Grover looked like a violent cross between frightened and relieved when two blondes entered. At least they were familiar. But that was not of much help. He could detect the monster that he knew of nearby. It was close. It was so close. It was -

"Grover, you ok? You're starting to hyperventilate," queried Annabeth softly.

Grover flinched, having lost himself in the scents of the area and not even having noticed the two blondes arrive before him. Now, though, his breathing had truly become intensive indeed. His eyes were shifting between the people before him and to the side, where someone or some people were approaching. His breath was short and rushed, but at the moment it seemed he would undergo a panic attack, though, a door past the entrance opened.

Students flooded out from the cafeteria, a massive group of hyperactive teens temporarily free from true restriction returning back to their 'disciplined' selves. Grover relaxed a bit while Luke and Annabeth pulled back, hiding out of sight behind a column. Wait. Just two? Where …?

Another door opened - the principal's quarters. The students quickly dispersed, as it had been a staff meeting that had just been released. Various teachers were pouring out from a door the group had not noticed nearby. All were dressed militarily - uniforms with red trim. A few members stuck out - a man with ginger hair, a woman with a wispy mustache, and a large imposing male that was likely a P.E. teacher.

Nonetheless, the adults also quickly moved off, much like the students they watched over. They marched off in a severe manner that suggested broomsticks were bound to their spines. ignoring Grover sitting in all of his apparent lonesome. It wasn't their job to deal with him, after all.

The principal emerged. The principal was a woman of average height, but wore staggeringly high heels to hide that fact. She was literally varying shades of gray, silver, and white - dusty steel colored stilettos, a modest dark gray dress, sparkling silver earrings, gray-white mid-back length hair, porcelain skin, silver lipstick, and a deep fragmented pair of pale silver eyes. Her lips parted, a sharp but lovely voice floating into the air. "Grover, dear, if you would bring in your friends and follow me."

Grover could feel Luke and Annabeth stiffen from behind their column. It was just that obvious. "C'mon, guys. She's not dangerous."

The woman smirked deviously, eyes glinting maliciously. "Now, now, Grover, let's not get too hasty with our words. But time stops for no mortal, and my patience is running short. Mr. Castellan, Mrs. Chase, Mr. Underwood, if you would." She magnanimously propped open the door and strutted back inside, obviously convinced that the trio would follow in.

"Grover!" The satyr turned, looking at Luke's both angry and anxious face. "How does she know about us?"

Grover gulped. "I don't know. She offered help and I said yes, mentioned I had a few friends coming to help." Grover shook his head, lightly slapping himself to focus. "But we don't have that long to take advantage of that aid. C'mon."

"No!" Luke grabbed Grover's arm, pulling him away from the office venue of the principal's quarters, and the blondes forced the relatively weaker satyr away from the unknown woman. They couldn't search for the demigods with no guide, and Luke was definitely not letting Grover pull off some mad maneuver. "Why in Hades should we follow her?"

Grover then recovered - somewhat, at least - from the shock that his fellows had dragged him off. He was finally breathing properly, but was still shuddering as if chilled to the bone.

"Grover, what was that?" Annabeth asked, "Even on our rescue mission you were never that jittery."

Startled, the satyr glanced at Annabeth, noticing that Luke did too. The Daughter of Athena always avoided the topic of their introduction to camp. Why bring it up now?

Luke seemed to grunt in agreement, his ire towards Grover lost in his surprise that his all but blood sister had brought up one of her forbidden topics. "Well, to get to the more important points. Who are the demigods, and who are the monsters, and who the hell was that woman?"

Grover finally ceased his shivering, even if it was more due to freezing than calming down. Then, the half-goat sharply turned and led them further back into the hall from which they had dragged him into and out into a courtyard. It was no longer storming, but a light rain fell nonetheless as the trio walked through the damp quad. He quietly whispered, barely above the rain. "I found two boys, brothers if anything. Legitimately fully siblings is ridiculously rare, you know that right? Also, they're extremely powerful - I thin-"

"And the monster?" Annabeth quipped, wanting to get to the point.

"There's one that I can't identify properly. It's also extremely strong, unfamiliar too. There might be others, but the one I mentioned might be hiding the scents of the others. Be careful."

"What about the principal?" Luke interrogated, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt.

"..." Grover did not speak up.

"Grover …" Luke said threatening under his breath.

Grover, who had led them to a private area in the quad, turned to show the fear in his eyes.

"An Immortal."

* * *

A man with a hawkish face with a large flaring nose and two mismatched eyes walked out from behind yet another pillar, watching as the door to the office closed, in the departing wake of the three young children that left for whereabouts unknown.

"Madam," the man said in a French accent, "Clearly we need to act soon."

The walkie talkie the man had spoken into crackled, and the distorted voice of an unknown woman broke through into the air. "Completely unnecessary, Dr. Thorn. It's a shame that you couldn't see the black shirted "Westover Hall: Grunt" almost catatonic with fear. I think you would have enjoyed the sight, dear."

"Well," Thorn said, "I certainly enjoyed listening to the wimpy satyr. I don't suppose you would let me eat him?"

The human-imitating monster could imagine the woman on the other side of the line smiling, in the way she always did. A terrifying combination of a mother's happiness to see her children graduate school and a person's delight in watching their foe run into a trap that would not allow them to ever see the light of day again. "Ah ah ah, my pet. Not just yet. There's just so much to do, and unfortunately that mewling quim is necessary. And you know just how much, don't you?"

Glaring at the door that impeded his way to all the children, Thorn gnashed his teeth but followed his superior's orders. "Soon, then. I will be waiting for your call, madam."

"I know, dear, I know. Don't forget to be prepared for the dance tonight."

* * *

"You nervous?"

Two raven haired boys were dressing up for the night, a basic ensemble of tennis shoes, khakis, and a button up collared shirt. They actually looked quite similar, and would be easily mistaken for brothers if not for a certain fact that Grover forgot.

Siblings were not allowed to share the same dorm room, which these two evidently were. Even if their body stature and facial structure were much the same, there were enough differences to differentiate the two from being actual family. The shorter and younger by two years had dark black eyes and was much paler, while the slightly taller and older had brilliant emerald eyes and had a natural surfer's tan.

"Yes."

But not for reasons that Percy knew, Nico thought. Most definitely not.

"Well, I actually am too," chuckled the Son of Poseidon next to him, carefully checking his hair in the mirror. "You don't mind that we set up dates wi-"

Nico lost track of Percy's rambling, thinking only that the boy's attempts at controlling and styling his hair was an act of futility. Not that it didn't look _good, because damn son_, _it looked-_

"Nico! Nico!" The Son of Hades focused back into what Percy was saying. "Hey, bro. You're starting to creep me out with that look in your eyes."

The meek boy looked down, somewhat ashamed. Nico pulled out a few cards, threading them between his fingers. "Sorry, Percy."

"Hey, now, Zombie Boy, you know what your dad told me to do. I might not have wanted to do it at first, but you're a decent guy. How many times do I have to tell you?"

Until I believe it. Nonetheless, Nico smiled tentatively before pulling open the door. "You have your pen? Or are you going to forget it again like the battle we had against the Laestrygonians?"

"Nico, you wound me!" Percy said, his face twisted in mock hurt, before shifting as the Son of the Sea's brows furrowed in actual seriousness. "Anyways, you can feel it too, right? Something's happening tonight."

"Yeah. So let's pick up Bianca and Daphne, eh?"

* * *

Two black haired girls of the same height were fiddling with their dresses. They both looked attractive, though whether it was a result of dressing up or natural looks was questionable. Their basic features were much the same as their siblings, from the color of eyes to the shape of the nose to the hue of the skin.

"Are you going to regret dancing with my brother? He's younger than you by about a year, right?" Bianca was really quite curious. Like, she knew her brother was gay. She was pretty sure Daphne knew her brother was gay. In fact, pretty much every girl in the school they were in knew Nico was gay, even a few more mature boys had realized that. Evidently, that meant not Percy, but …

"Well, I'm about the same age as you, so yes to that. And, if you're going to ask that of me, are you going to regret dancing with my brother?" Daphne replied, brushing her hair back to braid it.

Bianca frowned, feeling for her hat. She felt so exposed without it, especially with her hair pulled away from her face. "Well, as much as I'm thankful for you guys taking care of us and helping us adjust since we left that casino, I can't say that I like Percy that much. Or in that way."

"Oh, that I can agree with," tittered Daphne, maneuvering bundles of hair this way and that. "If anything I would say your brother is the one pining for his attention."

"I can't argue with that," agreed Bianca, grimacing slightly. "But it's his choice. Nothing I can do about it. Anyways, are you sure this outfit looks good on me?"

"Bianca! You look beautiful in black! The skirt is just the right length, and the silver design on your shirt matches it perfectly! I'm jealous!" comforted Daphne.

"Easy for you to say, look at you!" Indeed, Bianca was quite jealous of how gorgeous Daphne looked in her royal blue dress. It wasn't particularly conservative, but she looked so prepared and enticing and confident …

"Hey now, none of that. The only reason I like this dress so much is that it has pockets!" exclaimed the Daughter of the Sea as she slipped on a colorful tie to hold her hair. "Anyways, got everything? Who knows what'll happen tonight?"

"Yeah, who knows …" Bianca repeated, playing with a bracelet around her wrist. A tiny ruby skull embedded in the overall black band winked at her.

* * *

"So where are they?" said Annabeth, prodding Grover. Seriously, her patience was being worn thin after everything that had happened.

"They're not exactly the most social people," responded Grover, groaning at the fifteenth poke he'd gotten in the past ten minutes.

That Annabeth could understand. If she didn't have to deal with the absolutely ginormous retard that was named Luke Castellan, she wouldn't be frustrated. At all.

First she had been excited to see Luke, but then _apparently_ he'd been having a just _fabulous _time without her, even picking up a _girlfriend_ of all things. Joey? What an annoying _cute _name. Then, Grover just sits there expecting them to follow him to meet some unknown _goddess_ of all things like it was a good idea. After that, another hour full of awkwardness just waiting for everyone to get ready for the dance, arguing with Grover about his just plain _stupidity_.

And now instead of getting to dance with Luke, she had to sit in the bleachers, watching out for the demigods that Grover had yet to find and point out. Meanwhile, Luke was getting drinks and talking with the absolutely insufferable college student DJ. The idiot boy didn't even notice that her ears had been pierced! She liked the owl earrings that she was wearing, how could he not have seen them?

"There. They're dancing over there, with those other two girls." Grover said, interrupting her train of thought.

Annabeth peered across the gymnasium at which the dance was being held, taking in the two boys. They certainly looked like brothers, and dressed much the same. They actually looked pretty good, and Annabeth began to imagine herself dancing with them …

A sway with the now slow music playing, back and forth, looking up and straight into each other's eyes … the brilliant blue that shone like the sky, the almost platinum hair, the scar that did not mar but instead enhanced … the fingers trickling across her body, poking …

Poking?

"They're moving out of sight! Annabeth, go follow them!"

Gods damn it, if the stupid hedge munching Greenpeace advocate could just shut up and let her daydream.

"Yes, yes …"

* * *

"Bianca, by any chance do you know why Nico looks at me funny sometimes?"

The girl froze mid sway in Percy's arms, the soft lights above not giving him a clear view of her face. Not that it was any different than normal, really, considering that her face was usually hidden by hair or hat.

"No idea," was the soft response the Son of the Sea received.

"I'm sure you have some idea, B," Percy continued, undeterred, "but if you're more comfortable not telling then fine."

He saw her smile gratefully, the slight dimples appearing at the corners of her mouth. "But," the smile disappeared, "I want you to look up."

Percy gently removed one of his hands from his waist and reached for her chin, gently tilting it up. "C'mon, now. Be confident." She really was quite cute, especially those freckles just across the nose …

They had stopped moving altogether, in their little corner of the gym, hidden away by bleachers. "You look …" Percy paused, looking for the right word as Bianca nuzzled her head into Percy's hand. "You look radiant when you bring yourself out of your hiding spot, like a flower … floss … bosom … what's the word?"

"Blossoming?" asked Bianca, a tentative smile at her lips once more.

"Yeah. Blosso-" Percy started.

"Well, isn't that a lovely sight."

"Vice Principal Thorn?"

* * *

Flash.

Hm … wait … 3. 2. 1.

BOOM.

She absolutely despised thunderstorms. They had paused earlier, but it had come back with the vengeance of her father. "Why oh gods damn why …"

She hated them because she couldn't control them. Control, control, control. They reminded her of events she couldn't control. They reminded her that she was too weak to control. They reminded her that she wasn't in control.

Why else would she be waiting here, choosing to follow orders instead of risking death?

All for a gods forsaken prophecy.

But tonight could be the end of it. Tonight, she could hunt down the next person in line, bring them forth to fulfill the nightmare and end her self-torture.

She was so close.

* * *

"Understand?" Daphne watched as Thorn yelled at her brother and friend. "Yes, sir!"

"Percy's in trouble again," she groaned, walking with Nico to meet up after the slow dance finished. She watched as Thorn left the two, before her eyes trailed to … the decorations were just garish, she decided. Why didn't the student committee just see reason and agree with her that paper loop chains were just lame? Some boys were pulling them down, too, trying to strangle each other with them. She pulled Nico past the DJ station set up along the wall speakers blaring in her ear. Kicking away black and red balloons that flooded the floor, a fair share of boys continued her action by launching them into other people's faces. Ugh. Peasants.

Well, at least the dance let everyone get out of their uniforms. Daphne had just been dying in waiting to use her dress. Actually, it wasn't too much better. Havoc had been unleashed with that announcement, and other girls were traveling around in groups, wearing clothing entirely unfit for 13 and 14 year olds. Like, 2 pounds of makeup, spaghetti-strapped tops, too short bright skirts and pants, high heels that looked like torture devices? Daphne liked fashion, but was that skirt even covering underwear? Not to mention the girl next to that one was limping.

They were like a swarm of flies, hunting down lone boys. Bubbling, shrieking, and giggling they would surround the until they finally moved on; one said boy nearby appeared traumatized - there were ribbons in his hair, and lipstick graffitied his face and clothing. There were a fair amount of people actually dancing in the corners of the gyms. Totally unreasonable. No, she was above such plebeians.

Finally at the edges, she passed by a few more reasonable and mature older boys and girls that sat in the bleachers, talking softly and just generally hiding from everyone else. "Bianca! Why'd you let Percy drag you into trouble again?"

Her half-year friend blushed and looked down. "Hey! Confidence!" Bianca lifted her head, but still avoided meeting eyes.

"They probably got called out for PDA," scowled Nico. Ooh, the boy was just so jealous of his sister, eh? Daphne would have to nip that bud. No need leading the boy on or anything, right?

"Public display of affection? Oh, here we were dancing and you watch my brother dancing, hugging, maybe kissing with your sister? I'm hurt!" Daphne exclaimed, taunting the pale boy at her side.

Interestingly, both di Angelos blushed. Did she miss something?

Suddenly, the room blacked out, an absolutely monstrous boom sounding simultaneously. Screams immediately launched into the air, and the pair of siblings drew back into the corner.

"What the hell?" cried Percy, squinting and trying to see. "When did the storm start up again?"

* * *

Silver eyes peered out over the darkened castle, the power downed from a massive strike of lightning. The full moon, clearly visible above despite the storm wavered as a horn cut through the sounds of the storm.

"Time to hunt."

* * *

Percy's Notes

This time, the story is more romantic driven, so the author tells me. I'm not so sure how well he will stick with it, but it's going to be those me and Artemis together no matter what. He simply adores PercyxArtemis pairings for some strange reason - like what? Isn't she a virgin goddess?

Well, at least he wants to write an excellent one that will be finished in a consistent manner. Since so many fics of PxA have been "Guardian" or "Chaos" stories, he's trying something original like "The Color Silver", "Dream or Nightmare", or "Enemy, Guardian, Lover".

That's just kinda creepy, but I guess I got to go with it. Critically constructive reviews make me write faster. Favorites and follows help too. Third reiteration of Hunt of the Maelstrom is ago.

Updated 7/28/15


	11. HotM V2 C2

_"As mortals, we're ruled by conditions, not by ourselves." - Bodhidharma_

* * *

The darkness was not all encompassing, but it was certainly frightening.

It was probably the screaming and running that all the other kids were doing. Percy knew not to panic, but it was definitely difficult to restrain oneself when almost everyone around you was shrieking noisily. At least things weren't completely out of control, a blackout wasn't something hard to deal with.

Then the wall of the gym imploded, blackened and scorched stones tumbling into the party. Now, Percy wasn't the best at science, but he was damn pretty sure that lightning didn't cause explosions. Oh, a blackout he could understand, but an explosion that literally blew apart a castle wall? Wait …

"_Merda_," cursed Nico, returning to the Italian of his youth, "Children of Zeus."

That was certainly one way to put it, mused Percy as he lightly pulled everyone further into the corner. There was now a soft light from the storm, with random flashes from further flashes of lightning. The screams of his fellow students were now muted as they left the gymnasium, and accompanying the flashes were the occasional interludes of the booming bass of thunder. Rain dripped into the room, and Percy could feel Bianca huddling further into his side.

"Now, first things first," Percy whispered, leading everyone to the coaches entrance to the gym, "shelter. Daphne, you wanna pick it or should I break in?"

"I have the key, it's less obvious that way," responded Daphne as she took off her shoe and pulled out a single key from within, swiftly inserting it into the door and turning to enter.

Percy frowned, considering as the group entered. "I know that you know how to pick locks with your bobby pins, but when did you get the master key?"

"Bobby pin lock picking takes too long, so I nicked this one off the principal's desk the one time we were called in. Convenient, huh?" Daphne replied, smirking as she replaced the key back inside her shoe.

"Daphne!" scolded Bianca, surprisingly forceful. "I understand lockpicking, but stealing?"

"Eh," Percy shrugged, closing and locking the door behind them before turning to inspect the room. "We're away from whoever did that. Zeus wouldn't show up himself to kill us, so who is most likely to be hunting us down?"

Nico, who was peering through the foggy glass of the door in search of the people who blasted apart the wall, turned to address the group. "Well, whoever they are apparently can't use the front door. I don't think we should stay, wolves are leading the charge and are bound to pick up our scent."

Percy fell into a sour expression, halfway between a menacing grin in anticipation of battle and a disparaging grimace in unhappiness that his friends would be in risk of hurt. "Damn it, Nico, can't you give us good news? Well, weapons out then? And off that way."

Anyone's desire for belaying that order was lost by Percy's withdrawal of his sword and slashing open the next door out. Nonetheless, Daphne followed her brother and the di Angelos met eyes, shrugged in agreement, then dashed off in pursuit.

* * *

Annabeth was very surprised that her gasp wasn't registered by the demigods she were following.

Well, first, she would have to give Grover a swift kick in the buttocks for missing out the two girls, if the satyr wasn't buried by the falling stones from the wall. But the priority of the situation was the demigods, and if there were four instead of two …

Well, four demigods was more important than a half-incompetent satyr was far more important.

So Annabeth had put on her invisibility hat, following the group of four closely. And the eldest boy, Percy, apparently, the eldest boy's sword had just been absolutely beautiful. It wasn't any normal weapon material she was familiar with - she'd seen Celestial Bronze, Lunar Silver, even Stygian Iron, but bone?

Her eyes had widened as she saw Percy take out a lovely ivory pen, because that had been a jaw droppingly gorgeous writing utensil in and as itself. But when the boy had uncapped it and tossed away the cap to let a magical blade spring forth, she had gasped rather loudly. It had just been so intricate, a long blade whittled with a smooth wavy design down to the leather hilt under a crossguard that flowed just as well with the length of the edge.

It must have come from a monster bone, the Daughter of Wisdom categorized systematically. There was no other reason that a demigod would use such a blade, and Annabeth had seen other monsters wield bone weapons before. The only Cyclops she had ever met, for instance … that wasn't a pleasant thought. Monster Ivory.

But evidently the demigods were already aware of their parentage, and of their situation. How, then?

She needed to know more. Carefully picking up her feet and rolling from heel to toe to minimize sound created while maximizing balance, Annabeth moved as quickly and silently as she could after her fellow demigods.

Still chasing, she watched as the younger boy - Nico, if she heard right - pulled out a card - a card from the game Mythomagic, she noted, and one she didn't own because it said **Equip: Sword** \- and tore it in half. She almost cried out in the waste of such a rare card, but knew to keep quiet. Of course, immediately after a simple but extremely deadly and utilitarian Stygian Iron sword that was nightmare black appeared in the boy's hand.

Then there was Daphne, whom she would have labeled as a Child of Hermes if it wasn't clear that she was Percy's brother and that Percy wasn't like a Child of Hermes. The girl pulled a hair tie away from her wrist, which the girl snapped as she pulled it in two. Annabeth watched carefully, in anticipation of a weapon. She wasn't disappointed, as a bronze tipped leather whip lengthened out from the strand of hair tie. It looked to be quite long, the girl would be a dangerous opponent to face. Not to mention the girl chose a very good dress to wear, one that didn't impede any movement at all.

So what was the last girl using? Never heard her name, but … the bracelet in her hand originally had decorations, which were now half gone. She was wielding a rather long knife … Annabeth traced the knife hidden in her shirt sleeve.

_Skata_. She was so absorbed in following them she actually forgot about Luke.

* * *

Luke really wasn't prepared for all this.

Like, he had a sword hidden in a scabbard across his back that was under a jacket, but he wasn't anticipated the need to use it. He had been interested in the current song playing and so went over to talk with the DJ, but then the girl had dissolved into a massive rant about music and artistry and … ugh, he hated it but wasn't able to get out of the conversation.

He was almost thankful for the blackout, and if it weren't for the whole wall being blown in he would have went back to find Annabeth and share a dance with her. She'd been asking for one for some reason … but no, now the wall where she had been sitting at was destroyed and Luke couldn't find her anywhere.

He dug out Grover, but couldn't rouse him from his moans for enchiladas. He couldn't find Annabeth, so was forced to assume that she went to follow the two demigod brothers. What terrible organization.

Then the wolves arrived.

Luke gritted his teeth. Of course they would be here. But why? No doubt _she _of all people was responsible for the storm, and _she _could have injured him or Annabeth, and had injured Grover with that blast.

The wolves only circled him as he stood protectively over the satyr that brought him to a new home, one of the links from his painful past to his much more pleasant present. The rain was blowing in now, and Luke could see the brightly glowing moon heralding the appearance of the silver aura'd Hunt.

Sneering, he watched as the wolves pressed forward to allow more space for the Hunters behind them. "Same as ever, eh? Still the exact same silver ski jackets, all blue jeans and the same black combat boots. Do you guys ever change?" Luke taunted. "Not gonna show your faces?"

It was completely reasonable to have a hood on if one was going to be running through rain, but Luke wasn't in the mood for reason. A few of Hunters drew knives, bronze glowing in the dark and pressing forward. Others fell back to draw silver arrows from a back quiver, nocking them in preparation to launch towards his face. However, they drew back as a girl with a silver circlet in her hair that shone brightly despite the hood moved in front of the wolves.

The Son of Hermes backed up slightly as the girl - the leader - brushed off water from her jacket and pulled back her hood. Black eyes bored into his, a nasty smirk upon the otherwise regal face of Zöe Nightshade. "I would punish thee for thy words …" she began, continuing to step over the unconscious Grover and pushing Luke further back, "but I think that job would be performed far better …"

"In my hands," growled a voice from behind him, a sharp point leveled at the center of his back.

Despite the danger and his general anger at the situation, Luke smiled genuinely. "Ah, how I missed you, Thals."

* * *

Daphne was just shy of being behind Percy, with Zoe a step behind her and Nico coming up on the back. It was the formation that they had planned on whenever there was trouble and they had their weapons.

Bianca had been smart to do so, the Daughter of the Sea realized. Percy was the strongest fighter out of all of them, just from age and experience. Daphne was also more experienced than Bianca, and had a mid-ranged weapon that could easily back up Percy in the case of any trouble. Bianca, while not too combat-ready, was always prepared to back up her brother in the back. And with Nico, his weapon practically made up for the experience that Percy had.

Her brother was talented with a sword, she could see it every time Percy went up to spar with Nico. But in the event that Nico was fighting a monster, all the younger boy had to was scratch the opponent and his sword would absorb the monster's essence. Percy actually had to fatally wound enemy monsters.

And since all the enemies they had faced thus far were monsters, Nico was Percy's equal in facing them.

Of course, now they were heading back first to the immediately closer boy's dormitory to grab Percy's and Nico's things, then to the girl's dormitory for their things. They had always kept all their things in a backpack and a roller suitcase, which Daphne had originally hated. It had limited the availability of fashionable clothes, and she could only have the one dress she was wearing (she really loved the dress though, she was ok with having to wear it multiple times)! But as of right now - well, it would definitely be useful in getting away quickly. They just had to grab their bags and -

Daphne bumped into Percy, who had in turn staggered to a halt. Bianca was far more careful, and nimbly moved to the side, where as Nico tumbled into the Jackson siblings and they tumbled over. Daphne began, "Why'd-?"

Then she looked up. Dr. Thorn was standing before them, snarling.

* * *

Artemis stood to the side, watching her co-lieutenant face off with a ghost from her past.

Thalia was strong, mused the Huntress. The most recent addition to the Hunters, and yet within 6 years had become the second in command - or rather third, if one accounted for Artemis herself.

The girl was too headstrong. She had pleaded to Artemis to be allowed to physically age to her physical peak, if not mentally age and fulfill the dreaded prophecy. It was fully within the scope of her powers, so the moon goddess had allowed Thalia to grow, and as such she was still growing, and stood above the rest of the Hunters.

As such, the Daughter of Zeus was just a little shorter than the arrogant boy that she faced. About eighteen years old, give or take, was the age the Huntress would label the punk girl. Even in their uniform, Thalia had insisted on adding chains and spikes.

The look did work, though. Being older and naturally more physically imposing, compounded with dress and spear, Thalia cut an impressive figure, standing off against the Son of Hermes that Artemis could vaguely remember from before.

The boy was admittedly fast, for even in his disadvantaged position he swung around quickly enough to bat away the spear and prepare for battle. Artemis knew that her co-lieutenant could have easily slain the cocky boy before such happened, but was more interested that Thalia wanted to draw out the Hunt. The perfect spectacle. Her lieutenant had backed off to let the duel begin.

Her Hunters shifted nervously around her, but the goddess raised a hand, soothing them. Even if she was amongst the shortest of all of them in the guise of a twelve year old, all of them looked for her.

Of course, she was the one glowing with power. She was the one who didn't wear a hood, was the only one that was somehow dry though covered with rain, was the one who glowed the brightest, was the most beautiful of all with her auburn hair and silver eyes.

The two were now dancing over the satyr's body, spear jabs countered by sword sweeps. Thalia wasn't as aggressive as she normally was, but that was ok. The boy seemed unwilling to commit to the fight also. But, Thalia was slowly pressing more and more, raising her speed, becoming more dangerous second by second. It was only a matter of time before the boy was exhausted and embarrassed - perfect for interrogation.

* * *

"How long were you planning to take? I recognized them since the beginning of the dance, and you two were too busy being embarrassed by your fraternizing that you didn't notice me signaling you! IDIOTS!' Thorn yelled, nostrils flaring as he spoke in a distinct French accent.

Bianca winced - she hadn't expected the man before them to have been involved in their covert under the radar lifestyle, but had no time to properly register everything when her bag was tossed into her chest. "Why are you helping us?"

All of the demigods flinched as Thorn glared at them, mismatched eyes of an alley cats boring into their souls. The Vice Principal sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I hate middle schoolers. Just get a move on to her office, you don't have much time!" he yelled, J pronounced like one would pronounce J in Jacques.

The four grabbed their bags, running past their helper. They dropped their weapons to more quickly pull on the straps and carry their luggage, knowing that each would come back to them regardless. "That was strange," quipped Percy, still running at the forefront of the group. "But we know he's on our side."

"Just get a move on, Perce," reprimanded Daphne, "Let's just get out of here before some other lightning bolt drops the ceiling on us."

As Nico piped up, Bianca half listened in, not paying full attention. Perhaps …

None of the rest of the group noticed, but Bianca quickly turned around to jog backwards for a moment, one arm palm up slowly raising. Then she flipped back, increasing her pace to reach everyone else once again. They were nearly at the rendezvous for pick up, after all.

Behind them, an obsidian black wall a meter thick blocked the passageway.

* * *

"C'mon, Sparks, you used to be better than this!" laughed Luke, suddenly dashing forward to stab with his sword.

The Daughter of Zeus growled, incensed as she dodged the blade. "Then let's bring up the ante, huh?" She twisted her left wrist, and the bracelet spun off and became her Aegis. Luke immediately shuddered and balked, backing up. "How do you like that, Scarface?"

Actually, when did he get that scar? She must have missed a lot of what he had gone through while she was learning to adapt to the Hunt. Did he have fun, running around with Annabeth and all the new friends he would make and going to college and being able to live life and …

Her fighting became mechanical, more and more intensive as she struck harder and harder until she knocked down her old friend with a simple but effective maneuver. Thalia was afraid of heights, yes. Compounded with the fact that she was the Daughter of the Lord of the Sky, and that she could fly if she really tried it was a bit pathetic. Frankly, she was too frightened too. However, she was not averse to manipulating the winds to boost her natural agility, moving naturally faster than most demigods. That with the physical boost she got from Artemis's blessing, she could jump to heights of 8 feet. She didn't like going any further than two stories, but it was certainly an advantage in battle that she couldn't ignore using.

She could hear the battle music played by reed pipes as she struck. First she deflect the sword with her spear, driving the point down with a jump and push. Moving forward, she dropped upon his chest, her full weight pushing him down on his back and blowing the air out of his chest.

She knew her eyes were glowing electric blue, more than just the color. Her hair was sparking with bolts of power, just ready to travel down and be released into her target. If only the target was actually scared, instead of laughing quietly at her face.

"I … wish our circumstances had been different," Thalia whispered, a single tear hovering at the corner of her eyes, camouflaged by sweat created from their battle.

"Wish granted," said Luke, calming down enough to smile. "You forgot somebody, Thals. Did your brain fry from all the lightning?"

Wait, what? She was laying on his chest, yes, but they were also on top of Grover. Grover, who was half-transparent and had no physical substance because they were literally lying through his intangible body.

Shit.

A burst of pure plasmatic power ripped through the ceiling of the gym, destroying much of the structure. Hunters burst out from the building, now searching for a multitude of targets.

* * *

"Now, little demigod, what should I do with you?" chuckled Thorn softly to himself, sniffing the air. "There is no point being invisible if you still leave a trail of scent."

Demigods were such cocky brats these days, thinking a little magic would solve everything. Even the half-bloods of old were not so arrogant as to believe that. The manticore - for that was what Dr. Thorn was - backed out to the courtyard, luring the girl he knew was following him outside. She was probably extremely curious as to why an unknown factor who was adult would help demigods, Thorn concluded. The girl would probably find it even more surprising that he was a monster.

He pulled out his walkie-talkie, speaking quickly and softly so his pursuer would come closer to hear better. "Directed target, directed targeter 1. Status on targeter 2?" The storm had ceased again - clearly not natural. The grass squished beneath his feet, water trying to enter shoes.

A crackle later and he received his response. "First party distracting second party. Instructions?"

Detecting a slight noise behind him, he moved a little further towards the center of the courtyard, "Considering identities, we can leave them be. If you help me with something, we can earn some extra cash in a side deal."

More squishing as he received his last response. "Incoming."

Thorn's tail flickered out, launching spikes at the invisible but easily detectable gasp behind him. "Gotcha."

* * *

Grover disliked fighting. He disliked anything that was against nature (ignoring the fact fighting was nature).

But if his life's goal was threatened, he would act, he would do anything. Not like last time. He wouldn't repeat his mistakes.

The last time, he had only been able to sit there considering his growing loss for any consideration from the satyr elders at camp to be sent out on any other mission ever again. He had failed to get his searcher's license, but keeping him from being able to go out of camp would keep his from even attempting to get his license ever again! He would have been constantly around Mr. D, and he could never tell what mood the camp director was in when he was groveling around like a servant.

Not that Mr. D was that bad. But his very dream, to find Pan … he had gotten his second chance, and he had found two. Two! He would make it happen.

So he had woken up as the fight started, and the Hunters were too busy to notice him start playing, as it had been so soft. But, he had woven an illusion - a new trick he had learned, and moved away, playing much more confidently. In fact, until the very end of the song, his music had been hidden by the overlaid illusion.

And now he and Luke were running out into the open, trying desperately to escape the Hunters that would no doubt be searching for them. "Where's Annie!?" cried Luke, hurdling a railway.

"I sent her after the demigods, I smell them up near the entrance!" Grover yelled back as he kicked off his shoes to increase his speed, "The monsters are nearby but not near them, so I have no idea what they're doing!"

"So the demigods are safe?" they rushed a corner, crashing into a teacher. Whoops. The big, hulking, bulk of the P.E. teacher. Double whoops.

"What are you two nitwits doing out here?" roared the man, "Get back to your dorms, or prepare to use your own toothbrushes to clean up the staff restroom!"

Impatient, Luke swiftly drew and sliced at the man - Grover had just said there was a monster nearby, the teacher before him looked just the part.

Then Luke's blade shimmered through the man.

"YOU DARE ATTACK A TEACHER?! WHY, I'M GOING T - URK!"

From behind the man a lioness had lept and simply gored the teacher. From what the faux siblings could see, his back was clawed rather viciously, a pool of blood ever so slowly beginning to leak on the floor. Above the lethal wounds was a female head, attached to a lion's body with a spiked scorpion tail.

"What in Hades is this thing? Watch out for the tail!" Luke cried out quickly. It wasn't the first time a mortal had been fatally injured before him in a monster attack. He had no time to feel guilty.

Grover jumped back, getting the message. He begun a new tune, one that summoned vines that broke through the tiled floors to bind the monster. As it flowed up through the blood, it gave the monster an even more fierce appearance as the sticky liquid was carried up by the vines. The monster hissed, before stabbing her tail at Luke. While Luke dodged, the projectiles shot from the tail forced Grover to stop his song and move. The monster took that moment to pull out of her bonds and guard the path.

"We need to get around whatever this thing is!" grunted Luke again, who had shifted grips to once again strike at the lioness, "The damn creature is stalling!"

""It seems as if the manticores have been long forgotten. Pity," said the monster throatily, "But it's not just that I'm stalling you. I'm just as strong as my compatriots if not even more so - I'm here to capture you two. Any new blood for us will do well."

"Shit. Grover, I'll take this worthless trash, go find the demigods," said Luke, somewhat out of breath. Grover could tell the Son of Hermes was exhausted, physically and emotionally, from his fight with Thalia. College life had dulled his edge, and he really wasn't prepared to fight Thalia after so long not seeing her. Still, the boy admirably continued his dance and parried the claw swipes and stinger stabs. Hearing him, though, the manticore snarled, and backed up, preparing for the assault.

Grover had only ever fought by instinct before, and had never encountered such a strong creature before. Thus, he decided to follow exactly what Luke said as said person somewhat recklessly dived back into the fight. "There has to be at least two more, she said compatriots, plural! Get moving!"

Grover, first hesitated to dodge the five spikes shot at him. He then slipped past the congealing blood on the floor and rushed for the exit.

* * *

The four demigods piled against a door, each attempting to force the locked door open. Nico, the last to try the door, simply pushed rather than pulled as the others had done and entered.

"Oh," muttered Percy, "Whoops."

They were in the principal's office. They stood there, unsure of what to do next, until a voice spoke up. "Lads, lasses, I assume you are ready?"

The woman walked in from a different door, one that likely led to her private living space. She was now much less intimidating than before, only wearing simple flats rather than stilettos, and having removed her makeup so that her face was a little less pale and her lips were a more normal red. Not that it made her any less ethereally beautiful.

"Who's taking us in now, Madam Pheia?" asked Bianca politely, next to Nico.

"Is that what you munchkins decided on calling me? No matter, come along, dears."

And with that, the lady gestured the group to follow her back into her quarters, and they headed off.

* * *

Daphne's Notes

Let's see … the author told me I would get prettier clothing if I recited some stuff, so here we go!

Ol dog biscuit, you almost make your review insulting, like I couldn't do any of that before. I'm crying back here (not). Oracle, thank you. I was constantly irritated by those who said to continue the previous iteration because it just felt so false and pretentious. This will hopefully finish out as I wish. Phoenix, I do read and consider well worded reviews. If you like attitude, I suggest you read Kalends of Kingdoms for those author notes.

In other things, apparently the writer is going to alternate stories whenever his muse switches to the other. Until he feels like he's written all he can for a time for this story, he probably won't write the other one. Anyways, I hope I get the dress I want! Now was it the white and gold one or the black and blue one? Oh well, toodles! Do all them reviews and favorites and follows please!

Updated 7/31/15


	12. HotM V2 C3

_"There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." - George Carlin_

* * *

It was certainly a lovely melody, Daphne thought. But it was about as eerie as a siren call, and certainly looked like one too.

_Ask not the sun _

_why she sets_

_Why she shrouds _

_her light away_

They were all in a rather fancy car, driving away into the night. All things were packed, and Daphne really had no idea where they were going. Of course, she had tried asking, but the lady had said later about a half hour ago since the beginning of their departure.

And then she had started singing. Daphne would have bothered the lady to get her answer, but … Well, a) the singing was beautiful to listen to, and b) she knew the lady was an immortal of some kind and did not want to piss her off. The singing was definitely alluring and hypnotising … the lyrics and melody and tone were disconcerting.

_Or why she hides _

_her glowing gaze_

_When night turns _

_crimson gold to grey_

Now, Daphne was just a tad too afraid to speak.

The lady definitely looked younger than before. Perhaps it was because she didn't need to pose as the principal as she had before - in fact, what happened to the principal? Not that Daphne cared - the previous principal she had expelled her for what Percy did. It wasn't as if she had helped her brother prank all the gossip girls that were talking behind her back for the past few weeks, in the middle of an aquarium field trip. Like, she totally did not complain about it to some other loyal 'friends' she had outside the popular zone in range of Percy's hearing.

_For silent falls _

_the guilty sun_

_As day to dark _

_does turn_

Nor did she purposely ask to use the restroom after taking a look at the map, conveniently leading the group past the most fire alarms possible (she had a candid memory, having been to the aquarium previously), nor purposely annoy said gossip girls to restart their name calling and other immature behavior, nor purposely tantalize Percy closer to witness such by asking him for lunch money, nor …

She did nothing. Anyways …

_One simple truth _

_she dare not speak:_

_Her light can only _

_blind and burn_

If anything, their chauffeur looked to be in the prime of her life, practically glowing in the night due to the moonlight shining off her alabaster skin. Daphne literally couldn't tell if she had de-aged or simply looked younger. Gods did funny things, and unfortunately as a demigod she had to know about all the funny things to survive.

_No mercy for _

_the guilty_

_Bring down _

_their lying sun_

Especially if she had to watch over her brother all the time, while maintaining social standing and schoolwork. Weapons were always annoying outside of her misbegotten hair tie - while that wasn't exactly the best story to tell. She had actually gotten it from a sort of grave digging, if randomly coming across a dying demigod and learning all she needed about the life from the woe-begone girl.

_Blood so silver _

_black by night_

_Upon their faces _

_pale white_

Disconcerting. … blood …

It had been traumatizing to witness a girl dying. It was equally traumatizing to learn about everything that was involved in a demigod's life, learning that the piles of golden ashes around them used to be monsters that she had nightmares about and seen before - struck dead by the blood-stained whip lying around them, and that no one else could see the girl's true state of near death because the normal people around her rather didn't care or couldn't see.

_Cruel moon _

_bring the end_

_The dawn will _

_never rise again_

Well, the girl died. The whip just wound around her wrist, turning into a hair tie. A bloody, stained, both soaking red and crackling dry, one that she wasn't willing to touch as she held out her wrist and rushed home. She was young. It was two years ago? The first thing her mum did was ask whether she'd had her first period.

That would have been less embarrassing. No, then she had to imagine exactly to explain the situation to her mum. Well, at least mum had understood. Clear-sighted mortal, she had said. There was only one condition to learning about everything.

Oh … the music was just …

* * *

Scratched across the sleeve of her shirt, Annabeth quickly drew and parried the rest of the spikes shot at her.

Manticore. Monsters banished to Persia for their violence (and that was really saying something), with the head of man, body of lion, and spiked tail like that of a scorpion.

The beast knew she was there, there was really no point hiding anymore. It would be far more limiting to pretend that her invisibility still meant something rather than simply come out. Not to mention exposed blood would make it all the more obvious where she was.

"Who are the two parties?" Might as well get answers, she thought as she whipped off her blue cap, blond hair trailing away.

The ginormous tail of the beast she faced was fearsome, bristling with purple spikes. Even as the thing turned - she'd call it Spike, it seemed like an appropriate name - but anyways, even as Spike turned, he hunched over, muscles rippling. "Oh, little demigod," purred the face of a human upon the now furry body of a lion, "How bold of you to ask. Did you really believe you would get an answer?"

Spike's words hovered in the air, almost feeling to be trailing off yet never actually leaving. The manticore began to circle, and Annabeth immediately yet cautiously did the same to prevent the beast from gaining an advantageous position. "Yes," she admitted quietly, "I suppose I did. I'm amazed you aren't anywhere as proud as the monsters I have met before, not declaring your name and claiming to gnaw on the marrow of my bones soon."

Reverse psychology - Annabeth was sure by flattering Spike in his action of not revealing his name that the manticore would surely reveal his name. Spike was nice and all, but that couldn't be the beast's name. But …

Spike snorted, nostrils flaring out. "Gods below, you asinine girl. I am so sorely tempted," his tail flexed, launching several more large spikes which the Daughter of Wisdom dodged by quickly dodging to the side, "to kill you. But to mess with your mind, your group was the first party, Child of Athena - oh, don't look so dumbfounded, dear little girl. The blonde hair and gray eyes are obvious enough signs to you being the daughter of that oath-breaker."

Annabeth merely filed away the insult as her mind raced, trying to understand what the manticore had said. If who she was with was the first party … then that included Luke and Grover. So …

Annabeth blanched, visibly paling in the damp moonlit night. "Who is fighting with Luke?" she asked, trepidation clear in her voice. Distracting. What could distracting connotate? Could he possibly be in any danger? Oh, Luke … things were not going according to plan if he was in any trouble.

"Old friends. But dear, have you forgotten something?" Annabeth flushed at the sardonic tone, insulted by the insinuation that she had left something out of her mind. "I did change from secreting the painful version to the paralysis version, but for such a _smart_ demigod to forget …"

Annabeth pounced forward, attempting to engage the monster before her so she could find Luke. What she probably didn't expect was to trip on her own feet, landing on her grazed arm. Her movements felt dull, and her entire arm actually felt numb …

_Wait._

Skata. Annabeth groaned, realizing that since there had not been any initial pain beyond the slightness of the cut on her arm. She had been pressed into movement by the devious monster and now the paralyzing agent that had been in the spikes were now fully in her system. Along with numbing her senses and paralyzing her, she could feel herself slowly, slowly … drifting away. Still, straining at her remaining conscious, she saw the monster now back in his illusory human form lean over her and pick her up.

"The name is Thorn, dear Annabeth, and it is time for your delivery."

Well, at least Spike had been a … a pret-pretty close estima … name …

* * *

Bianca was lying in the extended backseat, trying to get comfortable laying on her back. As far as she could tell, everyone else had fallen asleep. Percy had taken shotgun next to the lady and was occasionally muttering things that she couldn't hear, Nico was behind the driver and Daphne behind Percy.

Bianca had dived into the backseat to change into much more comfortable sweatpants and an overly large shirt in desire of privacy. She was rather put off, impressed, disgusted with Daphne when she merely stripped away to her underwear to quickly change into her own sleepwear.

Well, Bianca supposed, she didn't really have any reason to be ashamed. Daphne had always said that was of the opinion Percy was too sweet and gentlemanly and brotherly to be bothered; was sure that Nico batted for the other team; constantly did the same thing with Bianca for the past semester they had dormed together; and sure that the goddess lady didn't give a damn.

Sure would be nice to be that confident. Then again, their upbringings were just so radically different. She had only shadows of memory from her past, but she knew enough. Living in the darkness of war, the sadness expression from her mother's face …

It had been a trial, getting to know the Jackson siblings. Pulled out of a hotel that she had felt she had only stayed in for weeks but actually having been years, and being brought before her father. There had just been so much to learn in that single instant.

Nico had taken to it so well … Percy was pretty much the sheer model of a strong demigod, and Daphne was so confident in herself … Bianca was a burden. she could feel it, she wasn't anything special in terms of fighting whenever the group had faced monsters and just …

_Father, help me. I just don't know what to do …_

A sudden thought struck her, and she sat bolt upright. Praying never got anything in and as itself. No, sacrifices were necessary … and blood sacrifices were the most infamous and most powerful.

Would it help her here? Did the thought come to her through her own mind or by divine prodding? It was so difficult to tell with the acknowledgement of the existences of almost all powerful gods. The moon winked at her slowly, a lone cloud from the heavy cumulonimbus formations behind them blocking the light temporarily.

Biting her lip, Bianca brushed her hair back as she looked carefully towards the front of the car. Their driver wasn't paying attention, but the sacrifice could take place later. Her father was the god of the Underworld and any attempt to offer anything to her father would be strange without even adding some sense of respect and such into it. Like, opening the window and slitting her arm to drip blood along the highway didn't really seem to be ritualistic in any way.

But if it took awhile to learn just how to do it and she was to gain from it - well. If it would get her as strong as Nico, as adaptable as Percy, as confident as Daphne - she'd do it.

* * *

Luke wasn't exactly in the best spot.

He and the female manticore he was fighting had moved along the completely unfamiliar hallways. He had been scratched several times by claws, and he hadn't cared an iota of a bit of a shred of a scrap of a whit. He was mainly focused on avoiding the poison dripping out of the spines that flew at him from time to time.

The actual area hadn't fared much better. It was at least less gruesome than the dead mortal, though it wasn't any less slippery due to a water fountain off to the side which had been smashed apart by a giant swipe from the manticore. The spilt water had made the task of defeating the manticore even more difficult, slipping and sliding every now and then.

Hades, he was tired. Fighting Thalia, running, fighting a manticore … so, he had yet to injure the manticore deeply enough to defeat the resilient creature. His swordplay was rather rusty on the difficult maneuvers that would allow victory against the nimble monster, so he had to change his attack pattern.

Reverting to a single handhold on his blade did the trick, along with the quick draw of a knife. It was actually a pair to the knife he had so long ago given Annabeth - six or seven years? - and he treasured it so. With the freedom to use his knife as a pseudo shield and deflect attacks, the battle became more platonic. A few light cuts here and there, but nothing that would disintegrate the beast still. The female manticore had howled and hissed, growled and roared, but did not speak another word.

Swipe. Jab. Roar. Slice. Coil. Retreat. Pounce. Duck. Spikes. Parry.

Luke once again deflected a claw swipe. However, he was too slow to prevent the she-beast from disabling his sword - she had shifted her other paw back into a hand and clamped down on the grip of his sword, doing the same with her other paw upon the knife grip with lightning agility. Now they waged a strength battle, the "woman" attempting to pin Luke against the wall with his weapons keeping the two apart.

The manticore was so close that he could see every molar in her mouth as she grinned viciously; He was forced back to the wall, shoes squelching against the wet floor. He was already so tired … time seemed to slow as he noticed the spiked tail driving down like a stinger to injure him beyond repair.

Actually, was it venom or poison? Poison was supposed to be … non-invasive? If you ate X and were infected, X is poisonous. If attacked by X and affected, X is venomous.

Oh. Venom. Ah, continuity.

Luke dropped to the ground, ducking the incoming venomous tail. The sudden jerk twisted his blade up, which the manticore pincered to the wall, snapping the blade in two.

Quick as a roadrunner, Luke pulled his sword arm from the manticore's grasp fully and drove the broken sword into her neck. The manticore choked as the other half of the blade clattered to the hallway, the Celestial Bronze falling next to the dissolving gold dust. Just for good measure, Luke also drove his knife the collapsing monster's chest and let go, before leaning back to lie on the wall.

He hadn't expected the manticore to be able to manipulate the Mist so well as to gain opposable thumbs and gain leverage over him. The somewhat lucky break - ha, pun, he thought weakly - of his weapon saved him. Picking up half of his now broken weapon, he looked closely. It shimmered in its movement, and Luke groaned, dropping it on the other side of him.

A broken sword, so now he had the equivalent of two knives. The actual knife was something he was sentimental over - a mirror of one he had given Annabeth long ago. It would be difficult to fight … ah, skata. Realizing he was sitting in the middle of a school whilst his friends were outside doing who knew what, Luke slapped himself. He picked himself and his weapon up, also snatching the poisonous - venomous? now what was it? - purple spike tail bundle leftover from the monster (it was like a Chinese firecracker in appearance) and dragged it unceremoniously behind him as he dashed back to the original crossroads, following the trail of destruction left by his battle.

Slipping past a pool of blood, he turned and rushed for the exit. Bursting out the door, he welcomed the sight of the now completely unhindered moon in the sky, accompanied by the constellations that decorated the night. It was as quiet, excluding distantly soft noises towards the cliff.

Turning to face the disturbance, he closed his eyes and lifted his head to breathe in. His eyes flared and he burst out in a light run towards the evident battle, as another sound broke the night. A low, hearty thrum.

At the spot where he had stood, a lone silver arrow was embedded in the center of Luke's footprint. It then quivered, as if resonating to the clear sound of a hunting horn that pierced the night.

* * *

Smiling, he looked around anxiously. "Hey! Where's … where's my sister?"

It was dead silent. Why was it dead silent? People were staring at each other, what was wrong? Why was it taking so long for news? Was it going to be in person?

The last thing he wanted to hear was bad news. Especially about his sister.

"Hey," someone he couldn't see near the door spoke up, and motioned to leave the comfortable room. "How bout we take a walk, hm? We should to talk."

He was silent, listening to the news in silence. It was just talking, on and and on and on and just trying to explain why what where when which how his sister had sacrificed herself. It was only making things worse.

" … took down … "

" … didn't survive … "

" … saved all of us … "

"She wanted you to have this."

Those words cut through everything. A little figurine, which was now in his hand. He was staring at it, and his eyes were boring into it. It was an omen.

They were in a pavilion, probably for food. It felt familiar, as if something important had occurred there before whatever had killed his sister happened.

The wind was probably cold, but his jacket kept him from feeling it. No, it was within his mouth that he could feel a bitter taste. Snow was falling lightly against the marble of the area, almost as if heralding a blizzard.

"You promised you would protect her," he said, voice cracking. He wasn't sure who it was he was talking to, but he wanted to find a rusty dagger and slowly eviscerate the person. Oaths were to be kept. Always. Whatever he did would hurt less than the Styx.

"I tried," the person pleaded. Male, for sure, but his face was obscured, "but she gave herself up to save the rest of us. I told her not to. She-"

"You." Word by word. "Had." Anger, hatred. "Promised!" His fist clenched around the figure, and he could feel his eyes brimming with hot, angry, tears. "I shouldn't - I shouldn't have trusted you. You're a liar! My nightmares were - were true!"

"Wait. What nightmares?" the person asked. It was desperation, desperation to change the topic.

What nightmares? He flung the statue to the ground, and it clattered across the icy marble. "I hate you! She's dead." He closed his eyes, and he could feel his entire body trembling and with rage. "I should've known it earlier. I can feel that she's dead."

"What do you mean, you can feel it?"

A hissing, clattering noise rang out into the muted night. It was unfamiliarly familiar, a contradiction at heart. He gasped as the person before him drew a sword, taking a step toward him, looking behind him to also check upon four skeleton warriors.

They were grinning as all skulls did, fleshless and gray, chattering and advancing with swords. Just like the person before him.

"You're trying to kill me!" He screamed. "You brought these … these things?"

"Hm … yep."

The first skeleton charged, but it tripped and fell apart. The other three advanced slowly as the first it began to knit back together.

"No!" He pressed his hands to his ears. It was information overload. "No, no, NO!" He shouted louder. "Go away!"

The ground rumbled, and the skeletons froze. A crack opened at the feet of the four warriors, ripping apart like a snapping mouth. Flames erupted from the fissure, and the earth swallowed the skeletons in one loud CRUNCH!

Silence, except for moans. The person who had led him here was pinned in the crack, legs smashed by the colliding earth's leftover twenty-foot-long scar weaving across the marble pavilion floor. "You," he said slowly over the pained sounds of the person before him, "You will wish you were dead!"

The ground didn't swallow the enemy up, but that was not what he wanted. He could run free, head into the woods. But …

He gripped the figure and began bashing at his trapped enemy. Hours and hours it seemed to go, until finally he no longer felt his anger. Panting, he rested his hands on his knees as he dropped the figure to the floor. The mad eyes of Hades gazed back at him as he looked down upon it.

Looking back up, Nico screamed. Before him was the bloodied, bruised, and broken face and body of Perseus Jackson.

* * *

Artemis was sitting quietly outside her tent by the sea, waiting for her Hunters to finish their job. Camp was already set, and now she was waiting for results.

She enjoyed the act of the hunt, yes, but there were some days that she wished for something else. One had to appreciate nature, after all. It wasn't as if she could spend 3 millenia just on hunting.

Yes, she was more skilled than anyone else at archery. If being the goddess of hunting was not enough, she had thousands of years of practice.

No, there were other things she enjoyed. When her brother had visited Japan, she had gone with him. While he had much liked the haikus - which was quite pitiful considering exactly how bad he was at constructing those - she had taken to the origami.

So that was what she was doing. Folding origami. It was really quite nice, the simple yet intricate designs that she could fold of all the creatures she spent her time with. Yes, she had divine powers that could probably just conjure such into existence - but where was the enjoyment in that?

But no, it was far too boring to do that. It was far more appealing to do it by hand, and the end results were far superior than if made magically. Admittedly the factor that she was not magically inclined in conjuring was part of it, but she was always one for the physical side of things.

It was far more aesthetically pleasing to fold cranes then infuse power into them to allow them to soar and fly, for the rabbits to hop and scatter, for the deer to rush and stampede. She was working on a beetle - it was rather complex and large, but her fingers were nimble and steady. It was a larger paper, but shrinking said paper was a necessity, unless she wished to bring micro tweezers to work with.

Mortals were really quite ingenious to have made all of the things they had. Artemis had tried a gun before, but just found the devices far, far, far too noisy. Also, the weapons were just so difficult to maintain, even with magic. Ironically, despite the simplicity of training required to maintain a gun versus a bow, a bow's components were always that of a wood body bent with string while a gun had many mechanical factors that too easily messed up.

No, things altered and made physically were the best, with just a touch of magic. Artemis really could understand Hephaestus liking his forging, with all her musing. It was simply the proper way of doing things. Constant work and improvements, always different each time and never, ever, ever-

A speck illuminated by light appeared on the horizon. A rhythmic thump like a heart of a hummingbird, gradually getting louder and louder. By the sound of it … a mortal helicopter. Perhaps she should get back.

* * *

Running running running.

Grover could smell that almost every scent that used to be there was no longer there. The two male demigods scent trailed off before disappearing, he had passed by the parking lot on the way and seen the tracks leading off. But the priority was current campers over all else, and Annabeth was further off facing an extremely powerful presence.

Not good not good not good.

The satyr could also detect the pure naturistic energy given off by the Hunt. Beyond just the heady scent that came from constantly spending time in the woods and such, he could detect the aura of power that each radiated. They were everywhere. His fur itched with the feeling of being targeted; Grover could feel the eyes tracking him from behind and to the sides.

Skata skata skata.

Luke would take care of the manticore behind. He was that skilled - at least, he used to be. Ah, damn. He better be otherwise Grover was by himself now. But Annabeth's presence was leaving, going further away along with the other monster presence.

Oh no oh no oh no.

And … was that? Sniffing in even as he ran on his clattering hooves, the satyr paled. There was another monster scent. What should he do? The aura was heading towards Annabeth. Oh gods, what could he do? Luke wouldn't be there on time. He couldn't fight off a single monster well, let alone two powerful ones.

There was only one option.

* * *

Thalia cocked her head curiously.

Sbe was still pissed off. A lot. It had been six years since she had last met Luke, yet she lost to him just as she had in their spars before … before all those debacles. She remembered much of that time.

And so she remembered Grover. She remembered that one time in searching for a rest stop - looking for enchilada - the idiot had led all of them to a trap. He was exactly the same. The same nervousness was still visible, the weak, useless sack of grass seeds was still exactly the same.

Or perhaps not, since the satyr had stopped and turned around. "Thalia!"

The Daughter of Zeus, still sparkling plasma on occasion, dashed forward and skidded to a halt. Her spear was out, crackling lightly with electricity, poised about an inch from Grover's neck. "What do you want, satyr?"

The horned monster before her - for satyrs were monsters, if more peaceful - shook, initially looking as if scared. But that was temporary. There was a hard look in Grover's eyes now, a determination she hadn't seen before. It was definitely a surprise, seeing the look upon a face that she remembered always quivered with fright when encountering any monster with even the slightest amount of teeth or claw.

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am, Thalia." Clearly the guy had gotten guts since six years ago. "You clearly remember all of us. Remember Annabeth?"

Thalia gritted her teeth. Yes, of course she did. The small little girl that she watched grow up for a year, so cute and innocent and intelligent … "Why are you asking?"

"She's in trouble. You still care enough to help?" She gripped her spear, knowing that her eyes were probably glowing blue. Damnit, she didn't need so many complications. She came to resolve all of her feelings on this, not to get the matters made so difficult that it was impossible to determine what she wanted?

Well, Zoe had split the group to go after the demigods. Half of them, taking along the most experienced: Phoebe, Naomi, Teresa, Guinevere, Amelia. She couldn't take in their input on the situation, Artemis was gone. She turned behind her to look down at her fellow Hunters - Marlene looked apathetic, Celyn bloodthirsty, Serena confused, Kaitlyn annoyed - she wasn't going to get any help from them. "Screw you, Grover. Lead the way."

* * *

Thorn was walking, slowly and surely. He'd picked up something of interest, after all. He was by the cliff, and retrieval was already nearby. Things would pay quite well at this rate, following orders were annoying but the manticore couldn't deny the results of his work being more entertaining than anything he'd done in years.

The demigods haven't been so fun to play with, only ever fighting for the sake of "removing the world of a dangerous creature." All he'd done was eat some mortals. And over time, they just stopped. Demigods stopped caring for the wellbeing of mortals. Then he was bored, and there was just nothing to do but eat and fight and eat and fight.

But now …

That feeling … it felt like old friends. The overwhelming scent and feeling of nature at its most pure - the feeling of predator and prey, hunt and hunted, the fight for survival. The aura of Artemis and her hunt, targeter party 2.

"Here. Take the girl." Thorn handed off the girl to the men in the helicopter, which had just landed nearby. She was both ziptied up and staked in nonlethal areas with paralytic poison. She wouldn't be going anywhere,

A satyr appeared from one side of the school, at lead of a group of Hunters. A blond haired demigod came from the other, obviously exhausted but still running hard - probably because of the other half of the Hunter group chasing him, shooting arrows. What an odd combination. "Men, come down. There's something to do."

A fight was on hand, wasn't it? Good, good, what fun to be had. People to fight, reasons to fight for, what a life to be led.

* * *

"Percy. My son. Wake up - or rather don't. Listen closely, we don't have much time."

* * *

Luke's Notes

Well, let's get this over with. Gods, I get a vacation from college work and visit Annabeth and then it leads to all this crap.

Let's see, Ash. You're back. Mighty fun, back into the fanfiction world, are you? Don't worry about Daphne, she's not going to be overpowered. The story is about me just as much as it everyone else, demigods all have the potential to be strong (although some have rather stupid advantages). The author is too experienced to write Mary Sues, I think. I certainly don't want to deal with any. I suggest waiting to see exactly what Artemis is doing, because hell if I can tell. Too busy trying to deal with Thalia, and I have no idea who the hell the woman in silver is either. She might be a Titan, but that's certainly very worrying then. And it updated right after, good timing.

Phoenix, I don't have many suggestions for reading in this fandom to read, though if you're open to ones from How to Train Your Dragon, Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, Avengers, League of Legends, Naruto, or just books in general … there was a lot of interesting stuff I came across in college. I suggest you read Steelheart. I like it, it's an actual book though. The author also thanks you for your compliment.

Oracle, I think the writer likes screwing with us with this writing style. The story flows somehow, but I feel the constant suspense and cliffhangers. Here's the next chapter.

Fractured, I am glad the story didn't go along the same path it did last time too. Things would have ended much differently for me if it did, and from the perspective of my current self it would be quite disturbing if the original storyline continued.

Biscuit, it was obvious you weren't trying to insult. The author is familiar with you, after over a year of reviews. And considering the first version was pretty empty of real plot or character, the second only having character, this time I hope there is both. And considering what I have seen, I'm not sure Thalia is helping Percy. Maybe inadvertently?

Anyways, I'd like to give final credit of the song lyrics to Riot Games - the game they made is pretty fun.

Updated 8/10/15


	13. HotM V2 C4

This is the last chapter for version 2 of Hunt of the Maelstrom. To be honest, I don't even remember if this is a complete chapter or not. There were other fragments from version 1 that further explored Annabeth and Thalia, but this version didn't go down the same path. There was also some version with a monstrous human headed bird and angsty Nico, but I don't know where that is. This is approximately where I think my work becomes passable, or at least where it becomes something more than 'rule of cool' and wish fulfillment. Just a bit.

* * *

_"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." -Edgar Allan Poe_

* * *

"MOM!" Percy leapt forward to embrace Sally Jackson, tightly gripping his one and only mother. He was almost even in height with her, he noticed - had he grown that much?

"Percy, I think you might be killing her again."

"Daphne!" Percy let go of his mother, immediately turning around to hug his younger sister. He felt her sigh in his embrace, before returning the gesture.

"I just knew you were going to do that," he heard her mutter.

"Oh, my lovely children." Percy smiled, feeling his mother gently join the hug. "My dear sweet children. You're not fighting anymore, are you?"

"What?" answered Percy, aghast as he broke away. "We never fight!"

"I stopped needling him," Daphne added, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah! She stopped -" Percy continued, before "Mom!" Percy leapt up, wrapping his arms around the apparition of his mother, who reciprocated with a little difficulty.

"Yes, you dolt, that's mom. We're kinda on a time limit here though, so stop squeezing her," snarked Daphne from behind him.

realizing something was off. "Wait! What do you mean you stopped needling me?"

"Daphne, don't you start it now!" scolded their mother. As she began to lecture Daphne, Percy finally managed to get a good look at their surroundings. It was a rather large cave, brightly lit by sparkling gems that redistributed and increased the amount of light created by luminescent mosses. Percy could see various fixtures here and there, all reminiscent of his old home.

Their old home. "Mum, is that the same fridge?"

Sally Jackson ceased her heart to heart with his sister to answer. "Yes, dear, it is. Your father and uncle have been very accommodating with allowing me to redesign the place."

"You got a lot done in the past month, then. So the deal is going well?" Daphne put in. "Amphitrite not going nuts yet?"

"Well," said their mother, smile soured slightly, "It wasn't as if I didn't already know what I was getting into with the marriage. And thankfully with this arrangement, I still get to see you two."

Percy shuddered. "Please don't refer to that."

"To what, dear?"

"He means how you died, mom," answered Daphne for her brother. "He still hasn't really gotten over it, despite the times we get to visit you since the deal."

"Yes, yes," their mom demurred. "I still kind of wish you two hadn't been so hasty with it, the consequences could have been far, far, worse."

"But we missed you so much, mom!" Percy cried, rubbing away at salty liquid near his eyes. Ah, just remembering what had happened always caused him to use his powers to summon seawater. Because those were totally not tears.

"That does not excuse being rash, Percy!" retorted Sally, once again scolding, before calming down. "C'mon, my babies, let's sit at the dining table. I only see you once a month and I want to get the most out of my time."

They all glanced glanced at a crystal sitting on the center of the table, which unlike all the other minerals actually gleamed with its own light. Or at least, just over half of it was lit, and the light was slowly eating away at itself until it was most definitely halfway.

"The dreams we have together are already kept more stable than most, but let's get everything in order, yes?" said their mom, eyes furrowed with sadness as she looked down at the table.

"At least we have the time, huh mum? If it wasn't for me we wouldn't have any!" Percy really wasn't about to let go of the subject.

However, before their mother could argue against it, Daphne mediated for the both of them. "Let's agree that we really weren't in control of this, ok? If it weren't for Hades reaching out to Poseidon to strike the deal, and us dreaming of that, we wouldn't even have known about it. I was the one to convince dad to follow along with Percy's suggestion when we prayed to him later to agree."

Sally raised a single black haired eyebrow in surprise. "We've had talks about two dozen times and you never saw fit to tell me?"

"Did you ever really realize just how difficult it was to live on our own, just the two of us for a year?" countered Percy, taking his sister's stance. "I didn't even have a proper weapon while Daphne had her magic whip, that deal got me the sword! All the other Celestial Bronze blades we came across were already damaged so much that Hephaestus wouldn't use them as scrap metal!"

Daphne leaned forward, immediately continuing as Percy took a breather. "You told me to never go to camp because of all the risks, and that's what we did. Distracted every satyr, killed every monster. You weren't there for us for that. You haven't been there for us for the most difficult period of our lives, and even now-"

"Yes, I know that!" erupted their mom, surprising the siblings. "I know." The second time was much softer, almost too soft to hear. "Let's please not end on this note, alright? I'm very sorry that I left you two alone in the world running around on the streets, and despite all my unhappiness at the risks you two took making this deal with your father and Hades I am grateful.

There were tears in Sallys eyes as she continued, Percy too unnerved by the drops of liquid and Daphne too stunned at the sudden turnaround to cobble together a response. "I'm grateful that you two are now off the streets and can get your education, I'm so happy that you two are making friends and alive and relatively happy. You two are happy, right?"

The crystal winked off, and the light faded away. Percy could no longer see anyone, but he choked out a single response that he wasn't sure whether Daphne echoed or not.

"Yes. I love you mom."

* * *

It was no longer stormy, and the moon shone fully amongst periodical clouds leftover from the storm. The ground was soggy and Zoe blinked, trying to understand the situation before her.

She quickly tallied everyone around her.

Her half of the Hunters, first and foremost the easiest to account for.

Luke Castellan, the disgusting boy that was with Thalia when she was recruited. Zoe really had no idea what the boy was doing here in the first place, but it was obviously contrary to the Hunter's orders and relevant to why the demigods were gone.

A satyr at the head of the other group of Hunters. Something extremely odd, considering Thalia's nature, but not the immediate issue.

A manticore backed by mortal soldiers, male and female alike. Obvious threat, and considering the maiden that was being stowed away behind the enemy group in a helicopter whatever was going on was not good.

She sighed, resetting her mind to fully refresh.

The orders were supposed to be simple. How did it reach this? Zeus had suspected his brothers corroborating, and sent his spies to check. Due to how engrossed the two were, he had learned of some very important issues. Zoe struggled to remember the exact talk for a moment. Ah, yes, Zeus had ordered Artemis to hunt down and kill the demigod children he had learned of from the fragments his spy heard.

It was somewhat - well, very hypocritical to allow Thalia her own life back if whoever they caught that were the children of the Sea or Underworld. Artemis had brought such a point up herself, so Zeus actually agreed to compromise and said that if any of them were female, they had the choice to join the Hunters. If male, they should be immediately brought into Olympus.

And so they had hunted, and come across the trail of two very strong scents of the sea and dead. The owners were very obviously female (due to the blood tint from the menstrual cycle of a non-immortal or stasis female - thank Artemis that joining the Hunt took away periods) and extremely powerful at manipulating their elemental powers, judging by the strength of the scent.

But now they were here, forced to interact with ghosts of a fellow Hunter's past. Such occurrences never ended well, and as much as Zoe respected Thalia, their personalities and viewpoints had been far too distinct. If Zoe herself only saw trouble with this event, Thalia most definitely sensed opportunity.

Well, it would be best to immediately negate a few threats. Zoe drew three arrows in an instant and launched silver bolts through the air. One sliced into the tail rotors of the helicopter, another through the still spinning main blades, and yet another striking through the throat of one of the mortals.

The mortal dropped dead, falling back from the force of the arrow embedding itself through his neck. A few of the other mortals around the man screamed - and they spread out, strafing bullets away at the Hunters and demigods. The main blades kept spinning until the weakened support tore away, and the large flaps spun down, cutting into the ground and off-setting the helicopter.

The Hunters were still picking off the mortals one by one, ensuring that the incoming bullets would no longer be an issue. The demigods, Zoe noted, were lucky that the mortals did not focus their gunfire at them at first. Though perhaps it was smarter for the mortals to attack the Hunters first - they would be more threatened by arrows, as she herself had clearly demonstrated.

Zoe casually sidestepped a launched thorn, waiting the helicopter carefully. A man dropped out, the pilot, carrying the Daughter of Athena over his shoulder …

* * *

"Excuse me, um … lady?" Bianca still wasn't sure what to call her, but then again she still really didn't completely comprehend who the lady was, besides an immortal.

"Yes, dear?" Well, the silver dressed lady wasn't phased at all at least.

"Um … W-what's your name?" Bianca was too nervous to speak up properly - everyone was still pretty much asleep, and speaking up could disturb the lady's driving. "We ne-never did get it from you."

"Ah … yes, my dear children wouldn't have wanted you to know. Even Hades, such a good boy he is usually … he wouldn't want you knowing." There was a tension in the air that was palpable - not particularly aimed or aggressive … just there. Slowly it weaned away as the lady continued. "However, I can understand why he wouldn't want you to know. I don't even remember how many times he's told me that it's all for my safety! That children should watch over their mother - pah, he's the only one that does out of all of mine!"

Wait … so if she was Hades's mother … then … father was Kronos … the name of the mother … just at the tip of the tongue … "Rhea?"

"Oo, now, dear, watch what you say," tutted the lady, pulling over to a gas station, "Names have power. Perhaps not as much as they used to - if the gods still showed up to every place and time they were insulted or compared to the mortals would be wiped off the face of the Earth. There's just too much background noise that they blank out meaningless phrases like 'being prettier than Aphrodite' nowadays. But Rhea, that's something that the self-proclaimed King of the Gods keeps an ear to the ground for."

The woman pulled up, opening her door to access the pump. She simply poked the machine, and the pump magically lifted itself to insert into the slot which also opened itself. "B-but … you are her?" asked Bianca, wincing at the squelching noise coming from the gasoline line.

"Dear grandchild, I am … her indeed, but also not her. Perhaps you can understand me?"

"Uh … no."

"Well, I'm simply a tad surprised you haven't gone into any Titan tangents yet, screaming of my evil and the such … I suppose I've gotten too used to Olympians making it seem that way. Indeed, they have been quite successful; I suppose I can further understand my eldest son's desire to protect me if so much has already been done to villainize me and my fellow Titans … to think that Zeus occasionally holds arguments on who I loved most!"

"You see, dear," commented the maybe Rhea as the pump retracted, ignoring the absence of payment and magically returning to normal, "His campaign to do so - eliminate availability of information on Titans over the centuries has weakened many a Titan. Slowly, quite a few fade away … oh, my sons and daughters …"

For a few minutes it was silent as Bianca let the Titan start up the car again, heading off to who knew where.

"You are fully aware of what fading is, grandchild?"

Bianca nodded hesitantly, forgetting that the lady couldn't possibly have seen the action normally. Well, if she wasn't a rather super-powered immortal.

"The gradual disappearance of many of my fellows eventually brought about … well, me. For you see, I am as much your grandmother as several of your grandaunts - we decided to use some of our flagging strength to bond together as one - and here we are now. We're still much the same as we used to, but of course many of our realms of power have since been transferred to others … a part of me used to watch over the moon, once. It's a bit of the reason why I wear this silver, besides that it's such a flattering hue upon my skin."

"B-but then … what is your name, if you are parts of many?" Bianca asked, still a bit lost. She was suddenly startled by some sudden restless movement from Nico, but shortly refocused back to the Titan.

"Hm … I've never truly thought one necessary, for really I am one Titaness. The collective memories makes me feel as if I was always just this one person … I've given birth to a lot of children, seen so many things …" The Titaness trailed off, and they continued on in their drive south.

"May I call you Haima?"

"You know what, Bianca? You are now the favorite of my blood."

* * *

Thorn changed - hunched over, his now furred arms batting away the golden haired boy's celestial bronze knife throw. It was certainly an odd knife, too … it seemed rather jagged, almost like a broken sword. The manticore jabbed his tail forth, but he flinched as the gruesome features of Medusa's head appeared in his sight and thus missed, off over his intended target of the satyr's head by several feet. However, he quickly recovered from his exposure to the now wielded Aegis from the infamous Daughter of Zeus, and now shot spikes towards her. Nonetheless, she was equally nimble and jumped, actually flying over the manticore and scratching the monster alongst the arm with her drawn spear.

The manticore growled as he tried to assess all the many enemies around him, but the huntresses were currently running circles around the mortals and eliminating them one by one before backing out of his spike range. The blond boy had been knocked out by a few Hunters and pulled back, which counted in his favor. But with the satyr now playing on a set of reed pipes that he pulled out of wherever, green growth was burst through the soggy earth to tie down one of his legs. The thick rope-like vines would be easy to break, but couldn't be dealt with easily at the moment due to the constant arrow fire that was forcing Thorn to maintain his concentration elsewhere. The only real luck he had was that the spear-wielding demigod was forced back.

So currently Thorn was forced to hold one position. He roared as several more mortals dropped over the cliff from the rain of arrows, including the pilot who had put down their captive near the edge. Giving up on blocking all the incoming bolts, Thorn reached down to pull his leg away and bounded over in a single leap to the unconscious demigod's body.

He had asked for a fight, and he had got it. The odds were unfair, but it was really no time to complain. Reinforcements were coming soon, though. Even if he could smell one of his fellow manticore's remnants on his enemies - a clear sign of her death, though Thorn was completely fine with that because she had been a total pain in the foot - he could stand.

There weren't many options available to him due to sheer numerical advantage, so to get out alive all he had to do right now was … stall.

"Stand down," he yelled, yanking an arrow from his hide and reverting to human form. "Or else this demigod dies!"

And indeed they did, for Thorn had also pulled up Annabeth's body and held the arrow's blade to her neck. The monster was at the edge of the cliff, and there was no where to back up to - but that also prevented the Hunters from getting a clear angle to shoot from without the devious manticore possibly moving the girl's body to block the shot.

Several of the dozen were now attempting to subdue the satyr, who was also causing issues by attempting to take the blond male's body to heal him. Seems like it was a standoff, Thorn noted. Well, not for long. It was faint, but his ears were far sharper than any of those with humanoid intelligence here, and the wolves probably wouldn't register wing beats as a threat.

"What do you want, monster? Holding her isn't going to keep us from killing you!" Ah, Thorn seemed to have touched one of the Daughter of Zeus's nerves, judging by her yelling.

"And just what is your attachment to this girl, eh, Huntress? She is not one of your maidens … old history perhaps?" At Thalia's flinch, Thorn grinned nastily. "Oh, then is it she?

Thorn's grin only increased in malice as he watched the Huntresses shift nervously in the night from the obscene amount of anger radiating from Thalia. "You are notorious amongst monsters, Thalia Grace! Surviving for years along with two others before suddenly, the group disbanding!"

He cackled at Thalia's literally glowing facial expression from sparks hanging out from the girl's spiky hair, and dug in the arrow he wielded just a bit further into his captive's neck to draw a bit of blood. "Yes, I know the tale! How the group disbanded because of the Great Prophecy, how the oh so valiant Daughter of Zeus felt so angry with Fate to have needed to do so! How she left her friends who were now closer than family in order to protect them, a choice that they disagreed with! So she hunts with a vengeance - massacring monsters before her path, searching for a way to release her anger from the losses she has had! "

Thalia was now pushed beyond her ability to contain her emotions. Zoe next to her had ceased to aim her bow at Thorn and was instead forced to restrain Thalia from assaulting the manticore - a smart thing too, for Thorn would have taken the threat against him as a signal to kill Annabeth. Nonetheless, the monster who continued to taunt. "Yes, the story tells of how the weak girl couldn't let go of her past, how she unlike her fellows chooses to grow old! So that she isn't trapped in the world which caused her so much pain, because she just - can't - let - go!" With each of his staggered words, the manticore launched spikes that forced the girls apart in order to avoid being poisoned.

"The monsters call you weak, Daughter of Zeus! They say you were unwilling to face your fate and bring a new era, where the Olympians that forced you away from your friends could be dead and never to return!" Accenting his final word was another growl - not coming from Thorn, but rather another manticore swept aside the Hunters still poised to strike at Thorn to strike Thalia, who barely brought her shield around in time in order to keep from being clawed to death.

It was clear that the girl's arm was deadened by the battering blow, even from the Thorn's point of view tens of feet away. Also, a spray of spikes from both manticores had hit several Hunters, who backed off in order to tend the wounds before the toxins became a larger issues.

"And now," for Thorn would not cease his gloating monologue, even as the few Hunters still combat ready fended off the new attack, "You sit in power right beneath dear Nightshade …" the beast glimpsed at the eldest of the Hunters around the Daughter of Athena's frame, "Weaker than she, even though you can call powers to hand that she cannot! Then again, it is obvious why you are beneath her, if you are currently in charge of this mission of yours! She is clearly letting you call everything, even if you seem to be failing at it! She won't say a word right now to justify my claims, but I can see the agreement in her eyes while she holds back her bowstring! But it's no matter now," the manticore continued, voice rising as the gradual beating of something extremely large reached their ears. "I think you have long since failed!"

With that, a humongous - as in, large enough to comfortably carry a grizzly bear - red peacock with the front body of a lion and the face of the pilot who had earlier dropped off the cliff swooped up with a piercing screech. It was certainly stunning, the sight of a peacock with a wingspan of probably a hundred feet wide. The bird looped and dove in, aiming at the fighting group.

Thorn grinned as he heard the gasps of "Simurgh!" and the Hunters and satyr ducked away to avoid the incoming claws. However, Thorn only stood proudly as he exchanged smirks with his fellow manticore Claw as both were grabbed by his their airborne ally Talon. Given appearances, the simurghs were actually relatively similar to manticores - human face on a body made of two different beasts. Naturally, the two would work together, regardless of how the flawed ancient Persians had dictated.

"Prepare for your devastation, Hunters, for the Great Stirring is already upon us!" Thorn called out one last time even as he and his fellow monsters departed with Annabeth Chase.

* * *

Thalia screamed as the monsters swiftly departed, the arrows shot by the Hunters not doing significant enough damage to even slow down the simurgh's flight.

There was nothing she could do to save Annabeth. After leaving her and Luke in order to protect them, did it all turn out for nothing? She almost called down another lightning bolt when she heard Amelia mutter, "You have to wonder why they need a helicopter if they have that bloody thing," but managed to reign in her anger. She would need to channel it if she wanted to save Annabeth.

Grover had noticed the flight away, but now seemed to prioritize on what he could immediately with. Specifically, he was loudly screeching away at a piercingly high series of discordant notes that seemed to be healing Luke. Thalia could deal with the two later, the satyr was hardly the issue right now anyways - it would have to wait until Luke was conscious for Thalia to understand what happened.

What could she do to save Annabeth? The Hunters were still tending to the after battle, focusing on recovering before assessing the battle. Picking up stray recoverable arrows, healing wounds, checking equipment and the wolves … but then there was Zoe's black eyes glaring, right in her face, mouthing words that she couldn't hear. Thalia tuned her in.

"What art thou done, swine? If thee had simply defeated the Son of Hermes at the gymnasium as I allowed thee to do so, none of this would have occurred! Now look at us, we are scattering to at least have some semblance of respect before My Lady returns, and what dost thou think she will say when we tell her of our failure to capture the demigods, then watch a maiden get captured by monsters?"

"Shut up!" Thalia could suddenly hear herself yelling. "And if you can't, can't you at least speak straight? Anyways, you are the one who was supposed to find the demigods after the Luke diverted us, are you blaming me for what you couldn't do?"

Grover had now stopped his music, pulling Luke away from what looked to be an imminent mudfight between the lieutenant and junior lieutenant of the Hunt. The other Hunters had long since backed away, knowing that fights like such would be … electrifyingly dangerous.

"By the stars, ye nincompoop, I wasn't the one to blindly follow some satyr!"

"I only followed him because he told me of Annabeth being captured!"

"And then thou let her get away, belaying my signs to shoot down the manticore! I myself prevented the helicopter from taking off, what was thee doing standing around like an angry porcupine head holding a spear?"

Thalia definitely knew she was sparkling with anger now. She screamed inarticulately, drawing a dagger to cut away at Zoe's snobby upturned nose - it would do well to mar the haughty look on her pretty face.

However, Zoe equally swiftly drew and parried, and the duel commenced, black hair flying this way and that from each. The Hunters merely knocked out Grover and began to set up camp - they were used to such displays by now, and their only option at the moment was to set up camp and wait for their Goddess's return.

* * *

Daphne blinked slowly, readjusting to the new lighting. It wasn't exactly bright, shifting from the familiarity of her old home to the throne room of Hades - but, one had to deal with what one had to deal with. At least her shoes wouldn't actually get dirty from the ground here.

Not that it was that dirty - hell, the palace was beautiful and well kept in its black obsidians and gold and bronze metallic decorations, lit by torches lining the walls. But the black onyx throne before them made from skulls absorbed a lot of the light in the room, which seemed rather empty.

Well, it was probably because Uncle Hades kept out all of his security. Then again, it was probably because of Persephone, the goddess hated the skeletons and ghouls from previous eras hanging around in the the throne room. At least, from what Daphne heard him mumble one time. Daphne could still glimpse the flashing movement of what were probably hellhounds scuttling about, but they were all hugging along the walls of the room.

Daphne's eyes finally refocused, and she curtsied before the intense gaze of the Lord of the Dead. "Uncle," she said clearly, unlike her brother's shabby nod of acknowledgement and muttering. It was a tad unnerving to face the extremely tall God of the Underworld, but reports were reports, and they had to be made.

"Must we stand in ceremony here, Uncle? It would be far simpler to tell you the details informally," Daphne respectfully stated. It wasn't too hard to defer to Hades, for he was truly a sight to fear. Taller than even the average increased god size, the god was imposing with his bone white muscular body and contrasting black robes and hair. The most noteworthy feature, however, was the god's dark eyes that shimmered like black ice. At times the gleaming that shone with purple fire from within made her question whether her Uncle was a genius or a madman (before thinking the two were virtually the same).

"Do not think, child," Hades's oily voice rang out in its deep charismatic baritone, "That the last meeting commencing at my dining table meant anything in the continued … _deal_, of ours."

"Of course not," scoffed Percy. Idiot brother. Well, at least he remembered to say it so softly that Hades couldn't hear it this time, godly hearing or not. Then he vanished.

"My patience not boundless - I do not wish a repeat of the immature outburst your brother gave in our last meeting. Now … I would like the progress update on my children," the god drawled, tracing his right hand along the armrest throne.

The far more intelligent and respectful Child of Poseidon internally sighed at her older sibling's actions, before speaking. "Bianca is fairing well, Uncle. She is much less shy than even the last time we met, and her strength in manipulating the dead and the earth are on par with my abilities to manipulate water." Daphne paused, carefully taking in her uncle's expression, which seemed to be apathetic. Still safe, then. "Nico is also progressing well, though his skill much favors the use of his blade rather than his inherited abilities from you."

Daphne took another glance at Hades's stony face, which had yet to truly give anything away.

"Hand me your weapon."

What?

Daphne glanced down at her wrist, where she knew that the scavenged magical item rested even in dreams. Was he angry with her, wanting her weapon? She could never tell with the Lord of the Dead. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to offend the god, especially with the deal that had been made.

She wasn't particularly fearful for her life, no. But she could still remember the day when she met Percy in a dream - which was a rarity, actually, since they usually received separate premonitions. But in fact, it had been the older brothers of Zeus that had summoned them. The first time either of them had truly seen their father.

In that dream, they didn't have the ability to make noises. Their voices were cut, and they could only listen in silence for even stomping their feet made no sound. But Poseidon had cut a deal with Hades - using Daphne and Percy, whom he had never even met before, to protect Hades's children. And in return, all that was necessary was for Hades to allocate a special area for whom Poseidon claimed was one of the most wonderful mortals of he had ever met.

Percy would agree that their mother was a wonderful person, but Daphne was the cynic and would simply consider Poseidon's infidelity.

But everyone won. Poseidon got visit their mother when he felt like it, Mom could have a better time than she would have in what likely would have been the Fields of Asphodel, Hades got to stick it to Zeus and protect his children, Nico and Bianca were now being trained and protected, along with getting a full recollection of their past. Percy got a weapon, which he hadn't had before (at least one of any good quality) - and it was certainly a marvelous blade too. Cut from bone with designs that not only lightened the blade but did so without removing structural integrity, an excellent magically fit grip, and a return if lost feature.

But she hadn't gotten anything, besides being able to see her Mom again. Perhaps … ? She pulled it off her wrist and snapped it open, and the leather unfurled along the barren floor, the tip clinking on the marble. In a flash of black … black? Somehow, black. But in a flash of black, the whip appeared in Hades's upturned palm, in which the god contemplated.

"You are aware, child, that a whip is not quite a weapon?" Daphne opened her mouth, but Hades continued on without any sign of stopping. "It is a useful device to inspire fear and pain yes, but the condition necessary are far too exact to do so. You surely should have noticed that you must always remain at a specific range to maintain full effectiveness, that while the addition of the bronze tip is meant to injure monsters, it is not generally sufficient."

"Whips were never meant to be used in battle. It has always been too impractical for such. However, your talent with the weapon is quite impressive … thus."

In a gesture that seemed almost lazy, the whip disappeared from his hand and returned to Daphne's wrist in its less obvious form - a hair band. And … with it appeared a gorgeous bracelet made of metals and minerals she couldn't even identify. "Yes, Uncle?"

"You will need it. It will be far more effective than your old whip, provided you learn to use its multitudes of forms. Think of it as a … reward for continued good work, and an incentive for more. Your driver has already contacted me, and I fully …" Hades seemed to be trying to keep from choking as he spoke. "I fully trust her judgement on where she will take you next."

Daphne was pretty sure as the dream faded she heard The Rich One mutter, "Or that I can't do anything to keep her from doing what she wants besides when I'm begging on my knees."

* * *

The reason that Artemis had yet to be seen was that she was distracted by the local wildlife.

Or not so local wildlife, considering that a sea cow - a true half cow, half fish, not some manatee, had popped up and mooed right in front of her face.

And she couldn't understand it, and frankly did not wish to. All it said was moos in various lengths, but the creature was surprisingly endearing.

A rub here, a few scratches there, and soon Artemis had found herself swimming in the icy cold midnight ocean to more closely observe the unknown creature. Exactly what was it? Was it a new species of monster, one of the many that came about from her Uncle Poseidon and his various trysts? It couldn't have been Hera, despite the cow. It just felt so _familiar_, but why?

Artemis was now gazing up into the night sky, which was unfortunately still polluted by the city lights from far away. The sky had cleared of clouds, and despite light pollution she could see the many stars; she could feel the moonlight bathing her skin as she calmly floated along with the rising tide with the unknown creature supporting her.

There was no reason to kill it. It wouldn't be good sport to do so, the beast was like a cow in far too many regards. Some bulls were worthy of being hunted, yes, but this creature was more docile than anything else. What fun would it be to kill for no reason, especially a creature with nothing in its evolutionary body aiding in protection? It was too large to move quickly, had short and blunt horns - it could really only shoot out water on the occasion, just playing around and circling peacefully. So innocent.

No, it would not be right to hunt such an animal. But still, there was a connection that she felt with the sea cow that her intuition just kept screaming at her for, tolling a bell to.

Artemis flipped languidly, turning her skybound gaze to the peaceable cowfish that seemed to be content in bringing her around in lazy circles. She would see the creature again, she knew it would happen. She did not have her brother's talent with prophecy, but she could feel her soul and destiny tied to the beast.

"I will see you again, won't I, bull?"

The mournful moan of a moo echoed softly across the bay, but there was no other living creature there. Only a flash of silver light showed any evidence of change from the moment before, along with the vibrancy of the shine from the moon dimming.


	14. KoK V2 C1 Roots

A readable version of _Kalends of Kingdoms_. I wouldn't call it good, but it was getting somewhere. Still lots of problematic concepts and bad characterizations and interactions, but passable.

* * *

My story. Not my sandbox.

* * *

_"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages." _

_William Shakespeare_

* * *

Percy had to get out of here. He couldn't take another second on this deathtrap, even if he'd heard that it was now safe to travel like this.

Fuck planes and everything they represented. Fuck easier travel and the ability to travel the globe. Fuck it being the best way to get away from somewhere, and get away _fast_.

The next half hour was a blur, pushing his way out of the plane and through the airport complex as quickly as possible.

Percy really didn't think this through - from, from, from New Orleans, to wherever he'd washed up with monsters, to the plane. It had been from out of the frying pan, into the fire, then the belly of the beast, because beasts don't give a shit about burnt food.

He must look like shit - thank the gods for the Mist at least, even if he hated everything else. That way no one tried to evict him from the plane for how ragged he looked (clothes and body), even if he got no rest at all on the ride. How long since he slept? Not to mention eating, too - nutrients be damned, he needed some substance.

Now he just had to get his bearings straight - fuck, he wants to break down, but he has to survive, and there's no time. Pickpocketing more clothing from there, snatching a few candy bars and chips from there, and ducking out as fast as possible. The Mist could only deal with so much for covering his tracks, and Percy had no idea how much he could get away with before someone noticed. Mortals had certain expectations, and he'd got away with surreptitious little things before, but he really didn't want to test airport security too much.

He ducked into a restroom stall to jam everything into his broken bag and scarf down the snacks. Then he was out, hurrying towards the exit.

Tired and rushed as he was, he never noticed his attacker's approach.

* * *

Sometimes you have to wonder if the Underworld is really that bad.

Because there is really no way that hell is as cruel and evil as life.

Because your father could walk away from your pregnant mother, forcing her to remarry and suffer abuse in order to be able to raise you. That is, until she had to tell you to run away and never look back. Though you would. And then you would live the rest of your life wishing that you hadn't. Or maybe not. Who knew? You couldn't tell.

Because you could find other people like you, and survive, live with them for years. And then you could celebrate your twelfth birthday, but then watch as your adopted family be murdered - no, be _erased_ over the course of a single night. The family who'd raised and loved you ever since you ran away from home, who you'd learned everything from, who was everyone you still even knew.

Because you could find out that it's not only monsters trying to eat you alive, but other kids around your age trying to kill or enslave you. And that you could be forced to open up someone's guts to save yourself, someone who looked just barely older than you, but also so surprised and scared and desperate as she tried hold in her organs.

Because you could somehow pull yourself together after all that, voice still cracking from just reaching puberty, and still be somewhat sane and getting through life, and get sucker-punched all over again.

Because you could find new friends, and make a new place home, but lose it all over again.

Because your demons never stop chasing you.

Because fate will find you, no matter what.

* * *

It was just past sunset, and two of his scouts had dragged in … this.

"What is your name, dear boy?" Chiron smiled lightly, eyes twinkling, doing his very best to not betray any of his true thoughts. Gods, it'd been a more exhausting week than usual already. Still, he couldn't keep himself from power-playing, even if it just meant patronizing someone three thousand years younger. There were only so many ways he could amuse himself, though the fact that the child wasn't even paying attention only irritated him further. Yes, he'd been knocked out and was now just waking up, but demigods had to wake up faster than that. Sharply, and again, then. "Boy!"

The garbage before him flinched. Good. "Your name?"

"Uh … Arthur." The boy answered.

Chiron analyzed the runt. The child was so filthy that his hair was a nasty grit brown, and any clothing that the boy wore was wearing away into dust. The only article of clothing that didn't look like it needed to be tossed into the dumpster was the shoes. Actually … that could mean the boy had a reasonable chunk of intelligence. If one was going to travel, shoes were priority. Clothes mattered less, with nights still warm as they were at this time of year.

The boy had a metal rod strapped to a leg, which was an ideal enough weapon if without access to divine metal. The demigod was also clutching a scruffy backpack with only one strap remaining, but the bag was otherwise undamaged and therefore completely functional.

Definitely a smart boy. And he'd paused before answering … was he lying about his name?

"Surname?" Chiron continued. The evening light shone majestically upon him as he stood, a glossy coat only emphasizing the clean, formal clothing that he wore upon his upper body.

"Green." There was yet another distinct pause before the boy answered. He was definitely lying, then. Perhaps Chiron shouldn't have antagonized him by calling him 'dear'? The centaur could admit the affectionate term was not appropriate for how mature most demigods were.

"Truly?" He pressed insistently. Perhaps the boy could be intimidated.

"How would I not be sure of my own name, Chiron? It would be like not knowing yours, the most famous centaur of all." Ah. Perhaps not then. Well, it was always nice to hear about the legacy he left in this god forsaken land.

Puffing up slightly, reassured with the knowledge of his continued fame, the centaur spoke. "Well learned, half blood. But from where did you learn your history? I know that my own self is someone of prominence, but how much do you know?" Nowadays, the mortals had compiled many a myth into libraries and computers. Was this boy resourceful enough to access such knowledge?

The boy only sighed softly. "My mother was an excellent teacher."

An intelligent woman then, aware of the trials of to come and not so stupid as to try and shelter the boy from his fate. And by process of elimination, his godly parent was likely male. Only likely, because … Chiron shuddered, remembrances of perverse transformations flooding his mind. Ignoring that … "Then your father was?"

The boy just might know his father, since his mother apparently knew of the Greek Pantheon. But was his father an Olympian?

Chiron could only mourn the lost opportunities granted by the satyrs once under his disposal. It was so much simpler before to identify demigods and recruit demigods. Now he had to resort to questioning a street rat.

The child paused, as if remembering something. "My mother told me never to speak names of power."

Affronted, the centaur reared, hooves flashing perilously close to the boy's face. "The gods have abandoned all of us, dear child. All of them be damned, they care not for minor mortal misdeeds anymore. Now then, who is your father?"

The boy shied away, frightened by the imposing physical outburst. Ah, damn. The boy probably wouldn't be of any use anyways, Chiron rationalized. This … 'Arthur Green' would not improve his community. He was probably bluffing about knowing his godly parent too, no doubt the child refused to answer because he didn't wish to admit he didn't know.

That settled, the centaur made his decision and segued into a different topic entirely. One that would rid himself of the child.

_The child is obviously of no importance, _Chiron thought_, If his parent is unknown to him. I have no use for someone without the strength of an Olympian._

Nonetheless, the age old centaur was not cruel. Hardened by recent times, but not cruel. He would aid the child, as he had many others. In the case he was mistaken, and the boy was actually powerful, he would be able to call in debts. "Come with, boy."

He trotted off into the plaza in which his Greeks had gathered, preparing for the night. Chiron watched the boy carefully as he trailed behind him. The child was definitely strong willed, and moved carefully, coiled and tense. The boy likely had to fight on his own for a few years until now, young as he was. Not to mention that his eyes were keen, an expressive green that never stopped moving in their effort to take in all the details of their surroundings.

Hmph. Maybe it would be worth attaching a few more strings to the child before sending him off. "So, my dear boy, what do you know of the Prophecy?"

Startled out of a stupor, the child he had been observing so minutely replied with the utmost degree of intelligence. "Huh?"

Chiron sighed. "Walk with me, dear boy, not behind me, if you cannot hear my words. First, I am bringing you to somewhere to clean yourself and get some supplies. As it is, Arthur, I am rather unfortunately unable to accommodate you here with me. You, of course, understand why?"

The gritty child shrugged, obviously more eager to get cleaned up than to argue. Was it too obvious by how Chiron hadn't even acknowledged his nod before continuing that the centaur did not wish him to be here much longer? Maybe the boy had even realized it was futile to fight, whether the reason for dismissal was legitimate or not. Chiron began his lecture.

"Anyway - we should finish up before we reach the showers - I feel as if I should tell you some important information that may help you survive. I am sure you would like to hear? I'm sure you've heard the stories of how there were once safe havens for demigods, dear boy? Yes, all demigods have. The stories of Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter - and how they were disbanded half a century ago due to the camps were disbanded because of our part in World War II."

The boy nodded in assertment. A sardonic smile twisted its way upon Chiron's face as he continued. "However, that is not the case - or not the only case."

"You see, shortly before the battles ceased, and the war ended, the last known prophecy was given by the Oracle of Delphi before the spirit disappeared. The gods cross referenced our full foretelling with fragments of the Sibylline Texts from the Romans - and they were quite displeased. There are even rumors that this prophecy led to the destruction or hiding of the spirit of the Oracle."

They arrived at a gym, the large letters YMCA glowing brightly in the darkening sky. His followers, as usual, had outdone themselves, manipulating the Mist to take over the entire compound for the night.

The centaur intoned haughtily:

**By divine will the gods shall fall**

**Forgotten creatures from hell crawl**

**Monsters' last fight, halfbloods' last stand**

**Olympus turn to blood and sand.**

The boy straightened, taking in those cursed words.

"I do not give this information to you lightly, child. The power of prophecies cannot be fought - perhaps the Olympians thought disbanding the camps would buy time. Who am I to understand?" mused Chiron. "Be vigilant, child, and prepare. I hope you do well with this information, boy not named Arthur."

The demigod swallowed thickly, realizing his ploy to hide his real name failed.

"I care not for your real name, child. But know that when the time comes, you owe me a favor. Now, off with you. I expect you to be gone by tomorrow."

* * *

You can't escape the darkness.

* * *

Percy sighed, refreshed from his cleansing. That flight had been _horrible_ \- he would rather be surrounded with water over air any day of the week. Diving into the pool had been tempting - even if it brought back bad memories.

But if he'd learned anything during his life, it was that his parentage was dangerous. It was bad enough that he had screwed around with the water in the shower a bit. Mister buff boy with the rainbow tattoo had tried to clock him with a locker door when Percy had entered though. No one would be able to figure out that it was him that made the guy's warm shower run cold.

"Hey! Stop daydreaming, reject." Some other boy tapped his foot impatiently. "Pay attention. Do you want the damn handouts or not?"

"Uhm - yes. Mark, was it?" answered/asked Percy. Really, couldn't he have a few moments to soak in the glorious feeling of being clean? He was barely out of the showers with only a towel around his waist, and he'd already been accosted.

"Malcolm. Grab your bag before I leave you behind. I got my own stuff to do, so hurry the fuck up."

Well, he shouldn't abuse the hospitality. With his luck, the hospitality would start abusing him. Percy snatched up the working strap of his backpack and jogged to catch up with the boy already power-walking away. A few sharp turns around three corners, up a short flight of stairs, and barges through a few doors later, his guide of sorts snatched up a pack laying on a desk.

"Don't know why Chiron has to be so generous with giving out supplies," grumbled the dark-skinned girl attending the table. "I'm pretty sure most of the kids we send out by themselves die within a few days anyway."

Malcolm nodded in agreement before turning to Percy again, and Percy took the moment to finally take better notice of the boy before him.

Blonde. Grey eyes. Average size, but wiry muscles. Hm … Percy had met someone similar before … Son of Athena, probably.

Realizing the boy was speaking, Percy scrambled to catch the last few words. "... change in the restroom over there."

Well, at least he could finally get his stuff arranged. Muttering half-hearted thanks as he snatched the offered bag, the Son of Poseidon ambled into the specified room.

Opening his original bag, Percy pulled out the fresh change of clothes that he'd … recently acquired. Perhaps wearing full "I3LA" merchandise wasn't the most fashionable, but beggars (robbers) couldn't be choosers. Drawing a penknife from his pocket, he nimbly twisted and cut away all the price tags before slipping the clothing on.

Straightening up, Percy regarded himself in the mirror. Damn, he hadn't been this clean in weeks. Even his hair was clean now - but too long. With a few deft strokes, it was bye-bye to those locks of hair. The cuttings drifted down onto the floor, soon joined by a dozen more. It wasn't a particularly good job, but it was good enough.

Making one last pass, Percy nearly cut off too much as someone knocked on the door. "Hurry up!"

Moving quickly, Percy stashed the knife and yanked open his broken backpack to stuff everything into his new bag. From what he could tell, there was a bit of cash and food and clothing. He didn't get much of a proper look before it was covered by the things he'd already had (a pack of gummy bears, a notebook, a smattering of pens, Oreo the Panda, an extra pair of socks, mints, and a water bottle).

Even more rapping, even more aggressive.

"Coming out!" Percy yelled. Shoving in the metal bar he used to protect himself into the side, he zipped up the pack and came out.

"A haircut? Someone had too much time on their hands," mocked Malcolm.

Percy almost glared at the Greek, but his attention was quickly diverted by the large and intimidating Asian boy standing by the door.

"Ah. That's Sherman. I'm leaving you to him now, so I can wash my hands of you. Have fun!" Malcolm quipped, ducking into the next room.

Before Percy could say a word, his breath was knocked out of him as Sherman punched him in the gut and pulled him up over his shoulder. A few steps across the room, Percy recovered just in time to see the girl at the table smirk at him. "Bye, loser."

And then he was unceremoniously tossed out the window.

* * *

You can only pretend there's light.

* * *

"Watch it, kid."

Rattled by his fall as he was, Percy had hightailed away from the Greeks. Thankfully, no one had bothered to even watch him land. If they had, they would've seen the bottle in his bag burst, and the water within spread out to cushion his fall in a blatant defiance of the laws of physics.

"Sorry," Percy muttered, moving around the guy he'd bumped into. He'd rushed away, running a few blocks out before ducking into an alley, pausing to catch his breath and assessing the situation. From there, it had seemed most logical to head toward the general hubbub of the city.

"Hey … kid, wait." Of course, he'd immediately bumped into some guy as soon as he'd walked out.

Surprised, Percy turned - and looked up, as the man was quite tall, meeting the person's eyes. Hm. Cool. One green, one blue. Then his gaze drifted to behind the man - what was that whooshing sound?

Drawing his mock baton in a flash, the Son of Poseidon deflected a sickly purple spike sent at his chest. Dashing back into the alleyway, the boy pulled down trash cans and other debris to block the path behind him as he ran away.

What the hell was that monster? Last he knew (which was a reasonable bit), no Greek or Roman monster that could launch thorns - a sizzling noise distracted Percy. The demigod looked down at the source, to find his only weapon beginning to disintegrate in his hands.

Wonderful.

Last he knew, no Greek or Roman monster that could launch _venomous_ thorns were able to pass themselves off as human. Ducking behind a dumpster to avoid three more projectiles that hissed viciously as they sliced through the air, Percy vaulted over a low cinderblock wall before running off in a perpendicular direction to look for higher ground.

Hearing snarling behind him, the demigod chanced a glance backwards.

Whatever creature it was, it went flying over the wall, trenchcoat flapping about as it prepared to land on four limbs rather than two. A ginormous tail was curled up, spikes literally dripping onto the street as the thing landed. Claws screeched and sparked as it searched for purchase along the ground, before finding enough grip to launch into a fierce sprint.

Fuck, it was fast. Percy would prefer big, strong, but slow every time. Speed was so hard to deal with.

Despite the stinger launcher tail, the creature was moving in a very feline fashion, not to mention the fanged human face that still snarled at him.

Tossing the half melted remains of his weapon at the creature's face, Percy heard a satisfying conk as he again turned another corner and dashing across the street.

Ducking behind a car, Percy crouched down as his mind raced. The monster had only been distracted for a few seconds, and had apparently decided to take the chase a bit more slowly, as it was now audibly sniffing the air. Great. It could track him too. Should've been an obvious conclusion because it was feline, but still - fuck. No way to outrun it or hide from it, unless Percy could somehow double back and hide with the Greeks like a wimp. No, his only acceptable option was to find a place to stand his ground. With no weapons left. Fun.

But the surroundings…? Peeking around the car to find the right moment, Percy ducked over to the next car for cover, moving as quietly as he could towards where he sensed was the strongest source of water. Eyes flitted around, before his gaze landed on a sign. Children's park. Judging by the gurgling noise of a fountain he could now hear, he was saved.

Or, at least, he could save himself. The click-clacking of claws was getting closer.

Screw it. Hail-mary. Even if he wasn't Christian or Catholic or whatever.

Percy took a mad dash towards the source of water, and the monster roared behind him. Dodging behind a few trees, a few more spikes missed him by inches, thudding into the grass or trees. However, as soon as he'd left the protection of the tree, a projectile sliced into his arm.

He took it like a man. And in such a case, any man feeling a barbed projectile rip out flesh from his upper bicep would scream like a baby. Not to mention the fact that Percy could already feel the venom burning its way through his bloodstream.

Fortunately though, he'd made it to the water source. It was a few dozen spouts, arranged in rings, the type with only a few operating at a time to shoot out water for toddlers and babies to play.

It would do.

Collapsing in the center, Percy unassumingly absorbed some runoff to begin siphoning out the venom from his arm. The venom was being purged, ever so slowly - if he moved too quickly at this stage, his heart would pump the chemicals further into his body, and Percy did not want to know what the effects would be. Reaching out with his mind, Percy searched for the water beneath him.

The monster's arrogance saved him. Confident in its venom, the creature had taken its sweet time approaching, stalking over like it was royalty.

"Ahh …" it purred, "Don't you smell so tasty? Such a virile scent - I haven't eaten a demigod this powerful in decades!"

Now that it was closer, Percy could see it more clearly, even as he lay on the ground. The different colored eyes shone in the dim light. Now that it wasn't moving, it was easy to see the large feline body (Percy had guessed correctly, then), and the tail was even more intimidating close up.

"What … are you?" He groaned, hoping to buy a little more time to focus. The water was building up within the earth, pressure rising slowly but pressing forcefully against his efforts. He'd stopped healing his arm to focus on combat, and the returning pain of the venom wasn't helping.

"Of course you demigods don't know what I am!" languished the cat-thing. "I am a manticore! Your gods forced me into exile, that was how dangerous I was in ancient times! I had to eat Persian peasant farmers for centuries - do you know how stringy they are? How nasty their marrow tastes?"

"Yes, totally," grunted Percy, trying to distract the monster as he cranked up the volume of water behind him further. Thank god it was as proud as all cats seemed to be.

"Know, demigod, that you were eaten by the one and only Thorn! Now that my venom has tenderized you … hm, what is my delicacy today?" crowed the monster.

It slinked forward, and Percy struggled not to make any sudden movements as its teeth neared his neck, before drifting to a spout next to his head and sniffing it. "A water source too! Off for the night - a pity … but enough here to suffice." A cat's tongue poked out, lapping at the liquid.

Focusing again, Thorn sniffed his meal carefully. The manticore stretched back, indulging itself in Percy's scent. "So what seasoning? … Ah … the wonderful aroma of … of the sea breeze."

A green and a blue eye dilated, and Thorn's head snapped back down, jaw flashing forth in hopes to quickly snap Percy's neck.

But it was too late. Jets of water launched out of the holes in the earth faster than a speeding bullet, hitting the manticore in the dozens. While some were blunted to push away the beast, others were (ironically) spiky, penetrating straight through the manticore's body. Its yowls went unheard under the sheer roar of over a thousand gallons of water.

Abruptly, the flow ceased, and Percy rolled out of the way as a tattered trench coat and wet clumpy monster dust fell to the earth.

He hadn't aimed particularly well - the manticore would've died faster if he'd hit more vital organs first. But with his injuries, he was happy with the results.

The children's play fountain fully ceased. The demigod remained lying down, content to draw out the poison in peace - before - before he drifted off into sl…

* * *

"IS ANYONE HERE?! HELLO!? PLEASE, THERE HAS TO BE _SOMEBODY!_"

The waves were lapping at his face peacefully. Percy was at best half-conscious; was that the weight of a body on his back, or his conscience?

Ahead of him, all Percy could see was blood. Blood in the water, blood on the wall, blood in the clothing, blood leaking from the corpse in front of him, the corpse he'd - he'd killed? No, he didn't kill the corpse, he'd killed the girl that was now the corpse, and now the blood was everywhere, and …

"PLEASE, JUST _SOMEONE_, STILL, PLEASE!"

Percy fought the urge to throw up - again, it seemed, because his mouth and throat stung with bile, and vomit was in the water too. Forcing himself up, pushing away a - was that wet hair, another head?

He closed his eyes, refusing to see what he was touching, and moved away the weight that kept him pinned down. No, he couldn't look, he didn't want to confirm that that person was who he remembered it was, he just wanted to leave. He stood up, legs sloshing in the water as he pushed to where he remembered the closest wall was, and felt his way to where the exit of the room was.

Why was there water? Why was that girl still screaming? Why did his head hurt so much?

"_GODS _BE FUCKING _DAMNED, _IS SOMEONE, _ANYONE,_ STILL THERE_?!"_

Percy opened his eyes to find himself in the eye of a hurricane. Dozens of miles away in every direction, a ring of towering thunderstorms announced their anger, deafening the fragile boy.

What … happened …?

"**PLEASE!**"

* * *

Percy bolted upright, hands scrabbling to his waist for his weapon. But there was nothing there, and his eyes burst open. After another second of panic, he took in the playful patterns of water bubbling around him - no threats. Nothing - nothing to be afraid of …

Godsdamnit. Exhausted, Percy lay back down, trying to appreciate gentle streams of water. He was so tired he couldn't even stay dry, but that was ok. This was different from before, he's gone, he's safe, no one's he-

"You alright?"

Fuck. Percy snapped back up and whirled around, prepared to fight or flee from-

"I'm starting to think you're not alright."

The girl that approached him was quite odd. Ginger hair, shoulder length - that was automatically a disadvantage in almost every camoflauge situation. Frankly, she had a pretty, if somewhat forgettable face, brown eyes not being particularly striking and no particularly sharp features. She wore normal everyday street clothing too, further enhancing her mundanity (excluding the obtrusiveness of her hair), and she only carried a satchel that flapped loosely at her hip. She was just a bit shorter, so maybe about his age.

If there was anything distinct about her, it was that she was being completely colloquial. What kinda person approached a person sleeping in the middle of a water playground, at (Percy glanced up to judge the position of the sun) almost noon?

"Calm down, calm down. Tryin' to be friendly, you ass. M'name's Aly. Yours?" The girl bubbled brightly, in contrast to her coarse introduction. Her head bounced to a rhythm only she could hear, sending her somewhat stringy maroon hair flouncing about.

Honestly, he already knew the answer to his question. A monster would, or a demigod would. And he wasn't getting any monster vibes. What he was picking up, though, was crazy vibes, because she was sauntering uncomfortably close to Percy. It was all he could do not to back away as she approached. If he had to fight her off, the fountain was his only option.

"Weird name," he countered snarkily, observing the girl and maintaining distance.

"Well aren't you mean!" She pouted, folding her arms and stopping her advance. After half a second passe, she shrugged elaborately. "Eh, fair enough. It is unusual. Still better than the name my mom gave me though, that one was even more bloody weird, how about we just run with this one?"

There was only so many ways to respond to a semi-raving girl that was cursing with a smile. Maybe she wasn't visibly armed (though that really didn't mean anything), but there was something disarming in her stare. And given that she was implying that she was using a made up name for herself, Percy wasn't inclined to give her any points for credibility. "Um … sure?"

"Bloody fricken well damn sure," the girl sighed, before suddenly backing out of the fountain to drop down and splay back on the grass. Percy blinked in surprise. Did anything about this girl make sense? It was as if she cared for nothing in the world, pulling out a piece of gum from a loose her satchel and popping it into her mouth, not even regarding him properly anymore.

Alright. One thing at a time, trying to deal with the unknown flamboyant girl. Percy relaxed his stance slightly, but remained where he was a few feet away. Something easy first, something non-intrusive. "Any reason for all the cursing?"

"Any reason you haven't told me your name yet, pussy?" The immediate insult might've got a rise out of him, if the retort hadn't been dialed back by the lightness of her tone. "Whatever. Am I right in assuming you got kicked out from the Greek idiots yesterday?"

Percy blinked again, taken aback. That was absolute confirmation that 'Aly' knew of the mythological world, but to slander one of the major powers so off hand? Sure, most people's opinions of them or any of the bigger groups weren't positive to say the least. Outrightly insulting one of the strongest demigod groups so close to their territory was still stupid though.

"Aren't you friendly? Whatever, idiot. You can hold off on your trash name, twat. You don't seem good enough to be worth allying with anyways." The girl rolled over and pushed herself up, ready to stride away in no time at all.

"And you're any better, on your own and all?" Percy retorted calmly. If she was going to be cursing at him so much, he was sure as hell going to fight back.

"Oh, now we're talking, hm? I guess you aren't completely helpless, then. I'm glad to see you have _some_ wit." Aly turned back around and smirked victoriously. She stepped in closer, tongue remaining razor sharp as she mouthed off. "FYI, then, just because you're being such a _dear_ now. I've been around for a few weeks, on the edge of those Graecae fricks since they tossed me out. Isn't that just abso-fucking-lutely wonderful?"

Percy seized her hand before she could come any closer. What was wrong with this girl, why was she trying to grab his cheeks? "So why should I care? What good are you anyways, hanging around the Greeks like some parasite?"

"Well, asshole, they tossed me out for being Roman! That's more than I can say for you, though, you're certainly a Greek with how idiotically you're acting. If you were _Roman_, you wouldn't be the total _wuss_ you are. And if you got kicked from the _Greeks_ despite being _Greek_, you're a fucking weakling, aren't you?"

"Says the lunatic without a weapon and in a disadvantageous position," answered Percy, squeezing the girl's wrist even tighter.

A vicious smile alighted upon Aly's lips. "Oh, you asked for it."

Her other fist entered his gut before he could deflect the not completely unexpected blow. Winded, Aly wrenched her hand from his grip and dove into her bag, pulling out a shank.

"Retard," she quipped, diving in to stab him.

And then her eyes widened, letting out a yell as a jet of water blasted her in the chest, forcing her back and tumbling across the ground. Disoriented, the girl scrambled to get back onto her feet. However, Percy sent another wave of water that flattened her once more, leaving her face up and completely blinded by the sun. Already, she was fighting to get back up. Percy dashed forward and dropped, the weight of his knees landing on an arm and her stomach, pinning her to the ground. She readied another punch - but froze as she felt the edge of her own makeshift weapon tickled her throat.

"Don't-" Percy swallowed thickly, voice containing only the slightest waver. Leaning over her, right here, blade ready to spill blood … it was too intimate. "Don't make me kill you."

For a long moment, they both remained still, panting from the short skirmish. Then, Percy jerked back in surprise (almost letting her free, but he didn't make that mistake) as she let out a peal of laughter; and he honestly couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or serious or hysterical.

After five seconds too long, she gasped for breath, nicking the flesh of her neck. "Oh, gods! I _knew_ there was something different about you!" She laughed again, and Percy withdrew the blade from her neck a few millimeters. "How in the bloody fuck did Chiron let a Son of _Poseidon _slip through his fingers? Holy _shit_ balls, ha!"

While Aly was distracted, laughing away, Percy swiftly straightened up (still pinning her down). Grabbing the edge of his shirt - damn it, one day in and he was already ruining his new clothes - he dragged the shank through, creating a strip of cloth. Tossing away the knife, he got off her body and flipped her over, yanking her hands behind her and tying them together. The material was pretty weak, but it at least keep her from trying anything smart, or delay her somewhat if she tried to run.

It didn't help with her laughing through the entire process. She giggled as he tightened the bonds. She laughed as he dragged her back to the fountain, which he left her at the edge of. And she still wouldn't stop chuckling, even as he glared into her mirthful and deranged eyes.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do? Start with what he could do - he could check out his supplies first, get everything else done before he dealt with the wackjob that assaulted him. Drying himself with a thought, he marched over to where he'd left his bag and grabbed it, bringing it with him to a bench right by his prisoner.

Percy adjusted the straps of his bag methodically, then dove in. Underneath his empty bottle of water and the few articles of clothing he'd stolen from the airport was … quite a lot more than he'd expected. More clothing (hopefully they would fit), blankets, energy bars, toiletries, and even fifty bucks of mortal cash.

"Pretty frickin' good haul, right?" asked Aly, finally done laughing. Though, if Percy was hearing right … was there a note of jealousy?

He took that moment there to really take in the total whirlwind of a girl he'd just met.

She'd fallen utterly silent under his gaze. Yes, she was cocky and crazy, there was still a half-realized smirk playing at the corner of her lips, even in her current situation. She was defeated, a literal death sentence, yet still her eyes were full of humor and delight. Percy had shown he was unwilling to kill her, so perhaps there was that … but it was off. Her jaw was tight, there was something rigid about the way she moved that felt sardonic and black. And - no, there was some other emotion in her eyes, something edgy, almost … desperate?

"So where do we go from here, bastard?" Aly asked, smile still fluttering across her features.

Percy scowled, zipping then shouldering his bag. "Who said anything about we?"

The redhead half squinted at him, smile vanishing altogether. "I said we. I know you're curious about me. I can tell. Right there, you got hooked." She closed her eyes and ducked her head. "I … I know I didn't make a good impression. I'm, I'm sorry about that. But - but two is better than one, isn't it? Everyone else that I've met was shit, I'm sure they all got themselves killed the moment they left. I - I don't know how much longer I can survive by myself, it's so lonely … just, please?"

The last words came out as a gasp, but Percy barely needed to hear it.

"_PLEASE!"_

Fuck.

Still. No, Percy couldn't act just based on half-remembered nightmares, he couldn't be stupid. Stupidity led to death. "How could I even trust you? You attacked me!"

Aly's head cocked back up, that exact, irritating, oh so smug smile already back on her face. He could see it in her eyes, the awareness that she had him already. "The Styx is always an option."

Godsdamnit. Percy had been going solo for over a month now, and it had been exhausting. He could really understand Aly's manic desperation for a partner. When every enemy was some collective group, be it a horde of monsters or a pack of demigods, having someone at your back was worth an arm and a leg. Not to mention the things being by yourself did to you … there were more horror stories than he could count.

Like, the girl was already free. She'd already gotten out of the ties and stood up, but she wasn't making a move to leave or attack him. She just stood there regarding him, grinning all the while. Aly was probably pretty skilled if she'd survived on her own so long. It obviously didn't do any wonders for her psyche, but the redhead was strong enough to take Percy out if he hadn't had the advantage to begin with.

Between robbing a girl blind and trying to make his way out through unknown territory, and allying with an at least half psycho who'd tried to kill him already … he wanted to go with the latter option. Ally probably knew the area better, and working together really had no downsides if she couldn't backstab him. Sure she could still backstab him, but the divine retribution for breaking the oath would damn her too. Maybe … maybe having someone else around would help him.

And so he made a paradoxically deliberate and rash promise to define several lifetimes.

Stepping up to her, he held out his hand and swore. "I ask Styx to accept this pact, for me and her to never betray the other, for until the end of time."

The melodic sound of a river flowed eerily into his mind, the source from whence or where it came unknown. It certainly wasn't the children's fountain.

Aly cocked her head curiously. "Making sure that there isn't a loophole because of the names like that?" Her smile softened. It was the first time Percy saw her smile without some twisted intent behind it; it was a smile of respect and relief and satisfaction.

"So I swear on the river Styx." Aly took his hand. Her brow furrowed as she returned his handshake - was she hearing that gurgling river too?

_How … cute_.

Aly paled, freckles on her nose becoming prominent. Percy felt like he was worse though - he'd yet to meet a god, and that had to be one.

Or rather, the goddess of the undead river of broken dreams. Who else could it be?

_You two can stop pissing your pants, I'm not going to do anything, you two will be fine. As long as you don't break your pact, that is._

Both demigods shivered in the clear warm day. The sheer aura of the voice that the great river emitted was incomprehensible, it was as if an entire legion was whispering individual threats of promised retribution into their ears.

_By the way, Son of Poseidon, you said it wrong. Don't ask for me, just swear. I don't want your prayers, I've had enough of them already from all those damn relatives to the dead. Next time I won't be so nice if you screw up._

Percy had heard another person swear an oath once. It was understandable he'd messed up, but he still wanted to facepalm, if he wasn't too tense to move.

_I have to say, though, this is a nice little distraction. Amusing if nothing else. Here's something for entertaining me for a few minutes._

The river in their ears roared, the melody and harmony of the river lost in the sheer strength of the unmitigated storm of water of the Underworld. Percy could hear it, crashing along the polluted banks of the river: papers tearing, metals liquefying, plastic melting. The lost souls in the river were screaming, being destroyed and reforged.

_Stygian Steel weapons. Don't lose them._

Stygian Steel. Percy knew of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold - he'd had one of the former before it had been lost. He'd never heard of Stygian Steel before, but steel was an alloy. Normal, mortal steel was always superior to bronze, and unenchanted gold was a joke with how soft it was. Sure, enchantments during forging made Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold about equal - but could Stygian Steel be stronger? Inherently a better material, and then made better with magics?

Within their handshake, two steel rods melted into existence, pushing apart their stiff handshake. Percy smothered a yelp, trying not to drop it. It felt colder than ice, was he getting frostbite? Aly hissed, shoving the rod into her satchel and rubbing her hand on her side to regain warmth.

_If you keep me entertained, I'll let you two keep them._

The ominous presence left them abruptly, awkward as they were, standing in the middle of a kiddie water playground.

Percy stepped back, letting his new ally do her own thing as he inspected his "gift." Surely it wasn't just a foot long rod of steel? Sure, he'd been using something similar to defend himself for a while now, but it wasn't the most practical weapon. Useful as a supplement, yes, but what exactly did a bar of steel do against swords?

His worries were rendered mute as he held it in both hands to inspect. The rod glowed with an icy blue light, broke in half. Both halves then grew until they were thirty inches long. But while the rod on his left remained what it was - a rod, the rod in his right morphed into a sword.

The demigod held the weapons out, amazed. They were at just the right reach that he preferred to battle in, and the sword was astonishingly light and balanced. The handle was just the right size, made of some unknown white leather, and the blade shimmered with a white blue light from within that was difficult to see in the sunlight. Holding it wasn't torturous anymore - it now felt like a pleasant coolness rather than below zero.

"Holy fucking shit!" Aly exclaimed. "What did I get?"

Percy watched as Aly dug into her satchel. It was surprisingly small - somewhat smaller than a purse, even, though larger than a handbag. Yet somehow Aly pulled out a sack of coins about half the size of the satchel itself, then a plastic bag full of clothing, then a pair of shoes, then a series of canned foods, then a package of gum packets, then … Percy was going to hazard a guess and say her bag was magically much larger than it looked. Where and how did she get something so useful?

"Whoa! Fuck, I forgot how cold it was!"

She ceased, having pulled out the equally icy cold steel of her gift. It was … also a metal pole. And just like it had for him, it glowed and began to reshape. Aly's didn't split, though, only lengthened and hollowed and reshaped into …

"A flute?" Percy asked, "Why a flute … ?" He trailed off, eyes widening as he witnessed the girl's response to the 'gift.' He absentmindedly holstered his own gift, not even noticing as it reverted back into a single rod of steel.

She'd fell back to the ground, tucking her knees under a chin. One hand held out the instrument in front of her, the other hugged her legs tight. Her eyes were glittering … was she crying? himmering by her eyes? Was she … crying? Why? Sure, even with his utter lack of musical knowledge, he could tell the instrument was amazingly crafted, elegant and slim with etchings of flowers along the entire body (Aly later told him that they were anemones and hyacinths - spring blooms [her favorite season]).

What to do? Percy tentatively approached, kneeling in front of her, mind racing. If that was a weapon - music - then her godly parent pretty much had to be Apollo. But Roman? That _had_ to be rough. It honestly explained a lot.

He drew in closer, wary of what she would do but determined to do what he could regardless. She held the beautifully shining flute so delicately, and Percy looked into Aly's eyes to find them staring into the void, swimming in tears yet not letting any of it fall.

"Are you alright, Aly?" How was he supposed to deal with her? Like, they were partners now, he had to start somewhere. She'd been … peppy, to say the least, until now. Joyous and frivolous and bizarrely happy until she'd broken into sniffles and unshed tears, holding a flute. He was too young to know how to comfort someone properly, let alone someone essentially a stranger.

But she wasn't going to be a stranger. And crazy as she was, he may as well try.

Percy scooted around next to her. Settled in, he brought his arm up to her back and began to rub gentle circles. He'd thought, he'd hoped that she would soon lean away and swipe away her tears then return to how she had been earlier. He could sort of predict that.

Yet against his expectations, once again, Aly simply leaned into him and rubbed her tears into his jacket. Considering demigod rules 101 - don't be weak, monsters smell fear, and that they were still basically strangers … Percy was only twelve years old, but he knew when something was off.

Maybe it was a female thing? Percy couldn't imagine a guy embracing him the same way.

"You can't betray me, so …" she whispered quietly, tone of voice somehow clear and back to how he had first met her, if quiet. And how did she sound so joyful after that? "Never mention it again!"

Aly clutched her flute and continued to snuggle into him nonetheless, even though she was clearly better. Just where exactly was the nearest asylum, and when did they lose their patient?

And how starved of physical affection was she? Wait. How starved of physical affection was he?

It was another minute of surprise cuddling and listening to the fountain gurgle on merrily before he finally remembered that he'd never answered a certain question.

"My name is Percy."

Aly smiled quietly, and Percy smiled back.

This could work.

* * *

Thunder pealed, and the sound akin to that of a tree crashing to earth broke out, filling the dead air of the night sky. Well, not quite the night sky, for it was full of alien constellations that did not shimmer or shine, just merely existed.

A vast expanse of dead white grass was all that could be seen of the ground for hundreds of feet in every direction. Mist and fog weaved odd shapes, circling around what were perhaps large stone structures and prevented further vision; dust billowed into spiraling towers, spreading from the source of the sound.

Trickling down from the sky, odd black pieces fell-danced-floated down, littering the surrounding grass like splatters of blood. Some, curiously, melted into a viscous black tar, while others dissolved into black ash, or crystallized upon the earth, or … the list went on, ad infinitum. It was a curiously entrancing spectacle. One could almost say the pallid vegetation was being contaminated and poisoned, if it was not obvious that said grass was dead.

The noise resonated across the expanse of dead grass, continuing off into the unknown. Before it could truly fade, though, it was replaced by the sound of a rolling avalanche. The fog cleared in a rush to reveal … nothing. Or rather … tracings, of objects unseeable by visible light but obviously _there_, if only due to being able to see the _absence_ of what was, the _void _of whatever towering monstrosity that should have been.

A rush of earth-water-air-fire-_nothing_ rose from the origin of the sound, and the area erupted away to leave drifting objects only describable as _blacks_ and _whites_, gathering into twin tunnels of emptiness. In a slow-quick-nonexistent-instantaneous period of time, outside the description of short, long, or even what mere mortals and false immortals deemed chronological or continuous, the process of phasing into existence, of _becoming_, completed.

On one side sat a creature of such intense darkness, that if put under any light source, it would not look like a being at all. Instead, the grotesquely humanoid _thing_ would appear photoshopped out of reality, an absence of light so great that it tore apart the space it occupied.

Across it sat a being that emitted a light so great it swallowed the light of all other things. It was so strangely contained and restrained, yet also so omnipresent and uncontrolled; it was all one could do to keep all from being blinded.

They were brother and sister, if anyone could believe that such opposites were. If one could assign such platitudes and classifications as ridiculous as _gender_ to such impossible, indefinable, and above all heretical constructs.

Darkness and Light. Male and female. Ugly and beautiful. Contaminated and pure. Shallow and deep. Optimistic and pessimistic. Mercurial and predictable. Sane and insane.

Such mortal and myopic ideas (applied) / (didn't apply).

But they clearly worked in tandem.

Or rather, they worked in duality.

Because that was one concept that transcended all possible existence - conflict.

Only one goal in mind, as they played their odd little game that sat between the two. It did not matter who won, as long as the pieces did their part.

Suddenly, a speck of emerald flickered into existence between the shattered imaginings of black and white, on the very divide between. It was a sculpture, a piece wrought beyond the description of only width, length, and height, only definable by its existence.

**The game begins … **

_The game ends._

**Time and time again …**

_Now and nevermore._

**The chaos of choice that still, no matter what -**

_Inevitably falls into destined order._

* * *

**Percy's Notes**

Gods, I've been through a lot to get to this point.

_Oops. Eh. I would say 'my bad,' but I don't regret any of it. It took three years to finally land the right tone to even start from - among other things._

Fair enough, I guess? Fuck, paradoxed has spiced things up to a whole new level. I mean, this started pretty boring. You just keep fixing things people don't really care to be fixed. Like, I don't even get if all these changes are fully necessary? I actually kinda liked my journal from the previous iterations, is that just gone now?

_Pretty much. There will be a minor element of that which we be preserved, but otherwise I'm going to be moving away from that for story's sake. That's one of the biggest changes from pre-Gambit to post-Gambit._

Oh, jeez, can I talk about Gambit?

_No. This is a different story, you don't need to say anything for Gambit. _

Fuck. Fine. Kalends of Kingdoms only business then, I guess. I mean, what can I even say? I've kinda stayed the same person from the very beginning, except some of the stupid edginess getting taken out - thanks for that, by the way - but all this backstory stuff is coming out of left field! Everything is so much darker now, like holy crap!

_And now that I've finally locked down on doing a darker story instead of having half of the shenanigans wishy washy back to a lighter tone, I can actually make this work with the fancy premise. Not to mention pulling out all the told exposition and leaving that for sharing later, for engagement._

Well … I don't know how to argue with that. At least I'm still cool, dealing with Thorn and all.

_Yes, I would think so. You were half about to die, maybe, but I think I characterized you as intelligent quite well through your actions and thoughts. Some of it is … touch and go with the Chiron bit, but none of it was unsubstantiated 'told' bullshit._

Thanks. And what else was I supposed to say here again?

_Up to you, really. _

Oh, I remember something I wanted to ask now. What's going to be the deal with Artemis for this story now? It used to be me with her, but then you did your whole Gambit thing and now I'm not paired with her anymore?

_Yeah, I finally figured a way I could write a PercyxArtemis that would make sense to me, with actual flavor and follows logic beyond "oh they've always loved each other" or "because magic, that's why." And that's Gambit's Refrain, not this story. _

_Y'know what, lemme just get all this stuff off my chest and then let you take the stage._

_If you're here, fresh to my stuff, have a gander at my completed work, Gambit's Refrain. Fireworks in Rain is technically also completed, but just … eh, w/e. That was being cutesy and cathartic and one-shot, so less interesting for most people. If you're here because you've been with me through at least Gambit, then look forward to a … supplementary chapter on the anniversary of its publishing. And lastly, if you were here to see Kalends originally, or even Hunt of the Maelstrom - well, I guess things are finally back. For good._

_Because all my first ideas regarding PJO fanfiction has boiled down into this. From the very beginning, to other deviances, to several rewrites, to the year-long detour to __Gambit's Refrain_ …

_This will be the final result._

_Maybe I'll finish in a few years. I'm starting college soon, that will be fun. Either way … _

_Here's to Daphne._

…

Well, the author left, so it's just me now. What can I say? Constructive reviews would be appreciated. If you want a standard posting schedule, tough luck. I've dealt with his crap for 3 years now, he's not going to change how he writes. You can find his whole deal on his profile.

Actually, on that tangent, this chapter is published about one day before the Great American Eclipse. I think he would've preferred posting tomorrow, but that would kinda fail the purpose of 'notifying' readers about it.

Anyways, PSA: tomorrow, starting around 9am for the West Coast of North America, there will be a solar eclipse visible to all of the continental USA. It's been very long since the previous, though the next will be in about seven years. Look up the individual times for your state if you're interested, because it's going to be one hell of an event.

That's my shtick. Welcome to Kalends of Kingdoms. This will end up an epic length adventure with all its parts, so prepare for the ride.

**20 August 2017**


	15. KoK V2 C2 Heathens

"_The only way to have a friend is to be one." _

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

They were both turning in for the night for the first time as partners together. They had snuck into some Ikea, with Aly still constantly giggling and staying close to him, teasing Percy with the most curse words the boy had ever heard.

At first they had decided to stay in different 'rooms,' but within 30 minutes Aly had found it too unnervingly far, apparently, and joined him on his chosen bed. Luckily, it was king-sized and they used their bags to make a barrier in between them, but somehow the Daughter of Apollo had found a way to snag his arm and drool onto it whilst sleeping.

Percy could only laugh lightly as he considered the day, a warm wetness coating his arm.

He had supplies from the Greeks. He found a partner, one he had known for maybe 12 hours, but someone he knew he could trust - would have to trust, maybe, but could trust. He had a proper weapon now, not some old metal club to defend with. The knife balance had felt perfect in his hand when he had held it.

Aly had eventually disentangled herself, and being more familiar with the general environment had dragged Percy and their things to a nearby bus stop. They had sat there, watching the clouds of a still, cloudy, winter. Things were definitely awkward, neither knowing where to begin from there.

Aly's stomach rumbled loudly. The insane girl had merely giggled once more, before sitting up and pulling up a practically dozing Percy.

Percy lay still, unsure of his next movement.

At this point, he'd rather take on Ladon by himself than face this every morning.

A few days had gone by, and on each he woke up to find Aly practically laying on top of him, having snuggled close to his left side during sleep. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, today - or rather the previous night - she'd stolen Oreo from him and was drooling on him.

Not to mention she also felt so … soft?

Damn, take a pubescent guy that had barely any voluntary human contact for several years and stick him next to the most touchy female girl in the world. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling very comfortable.

The first morning, she'd moved away while still sleeping, so Percy had eased out of the bed. The following two sunrises had been the same.

But then they'd had to camp out (Aly had a sleeping bag stuffed in her magical bag too), but decided to alternate using it while the other maintained a watch.

After tucking in after a vigilant watch during the first half of the night, he'd woken up with Aly somehow having snuck into the zipped up sleeping bag with him none the wiser. He'd largely ignored that at the time in favor of telling her off for not staying up.

And now that they'd found a place to crash again, she'd cuddled up.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Shifting from his left.

Percy rotated his head, looking down to see Aly blinking herself awake.

Uh-oh.

A massive yawn. Murmuring. Smacking of the lips a few times, and a criminally cute crinkling of the nose.

"You're …"

Another yawn. Percy nearly yawned himself.

"You're … warm …" she said softly, at most only half aware.

The boy blinked, astounded at her reaction. Recollecting himself to gather some response, words were at the tip of his tongue when he noticed Aly was asleep again.

_Well,_ Percy thought, _I guess she doesn't care._

_But I'm still stuck here._

…

_Screw it._

Percy drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 3

So, at the end of last entry some guy named Eugene gave me some advice. Apparently he'd seen me pretty stuck on trying to write more stuff, but stuck. The guy snuck up on me while I was writing - Aly's laughing at me right now. I was totally peripherally aware, the guy was just remarkably stealthy while I jotted down my entry last week. No matter what she says, I'm totally attentive when I write. Well …

Anyway, the guy told me that since I was at a lost to what write, it would be better to do as he said he does himself. Only write a general list or itinerary of the day's more important events and only write full journals once a week. Considering how there's only so much introspection I can tolerate without going nuts, I'm taking his suggestion. Already, it seems to be working pretty well. Really hard to get interesting stuff to fill something worthwhile writing every day, so why not once a week?

Though some days are just boring. Last week was just traveling, and filling out a map Aly and I are putting together of the United States. That, and one massive game of hide and seek in San Francisco dodging a whole horde of six-armed freaks.

Passed by Glass Beach too. Gotta say, pretty nifty place.

Aly - still haven't gotten her real name out of her, for all the wheedling I attempted thus far - I've tried guessing, but there's probably no hope in that. I've given up on trying to sleep on my own. She even stole a platypus pillow pet to accompany Oreo.

I suppose it's just entirely too comfortable being able to sleep next to someone after being lonely for so long. It certainly is for me.

I've been the first person also crazy enough to stick by her. She's mentioned several times she'd failed to properly start up previous partnerships because a few people she tried to with weren't curious enough to take the baits that she dangled, or were too offended by the constant cursing. She'd been stalking the Greeks for about four months, interrogating dropouts for someone worth traveling with. Apparently there was around 2 or 3 a week.

Aren't I a special cookie?

Honestly, I feel lost in regards to her. What the hell am I supposed to be doing? This is a partnership - an unbreakable one. I haven't had any experience in real life with this, nor do I think she has either. But she's crass enough just to not "give a shit," (quoting her exactly), so it's up to me to be the upstanding moral example.

That's a riot.

* * *

"So my mother …"

The duo were in a parking lot, further north. For now, they were sheltered from the spring rains. The constant, strong pitter patter was almost comforting, and it was almost a scene that one would expect to be normal …

Now if only they weren't washing blood off their weapons.

"From what I was told, she'd dropped me off at an orphanage. It sounds bad … but it was a fairly decent one," said Aly, rinsing blood off the floral patterns. "They did actually save the money my mom left."

Her fingers traced over the an anemone. "Five hundred dollars for my future. I had opened their safe, taken just the envelope with my name on it before I ran away."

"It wasn't that hard to. My ears picked out the combination easily. Tumblers falling into place … as I left that life. It was a good district … doesn't quite atone for her not bringing me up herself," she continued. "But for all I know it might've really been better for me not to grow up under her care."

After that confession, conversation paused. It wasn't the time for words … just quiet introspection. Percy placed down his now clean weaponry and silently watched as Aly pulled back from the rain.

As she sat beside him, he pulled her in close and held her tightly.

The redhead's eyes widened momentarily as he did so. It was the first time he had initiated intimate contact.

"Thank you … for sharing," Percy responded. "You've never had the chance to tell anyone this before, huh."

"Pretty fricken much … they're really not secrets … just never talked about it properly."

The Son of Poseidon chuckled softly. "And just when I thought you've been cursing less, too. I guess it's progress."

A string of expletives quickly followed.

So much for a quiet moment.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 27

Still hanging out in Washington.

Had an adventure in Olympia recently. Of course, the huge Greek style architecture building was too irresistible not to visit. Surprisingly, there was nothing there.

No demigods hiding away, despite the Northwest generally being where smaller Minor groups hang out judging by a few previous altercations. No artifacts lying about, but honestly that might be a good thing considering the pink scarf we'd come across last time. Not even a few monsters - then again, who in their right mind wanted to meet monsters?

Nah, the adventure came from avoiding the mortal police after Aly and I raided a Costco warehouse to restock on supplies.

Who would have thought my friend's magical repertoire can't do much when several police sirens drowns out the sound?

But now Aly's bag is back to basically being our mobile pantry and wardrobe. It was actually stolen from a temple to Apollo, and is binded to return to her if she gets too far away from it. She mentioned blood magic and Hecate's children. I decided then I didn't want to know more. We've yet to find a limit - ran out of time shoving supplies into the bag. It really isn't the most efficient of satchels - it swings about a fair bit, and the size is just large enough to be awkward. But it's too invaluable to ever put down any farther than five feet away. Don't want to lose it, after all.

Not like the Stygian Steel weapons. Misplaced it again two days ago. Appeared in my right pants pocket instead of my back pocket this time. Still the most shocking thing to basically have a bar of ice shoved down your pants. Not as immediately handy to keep in my bag (still reasonably accessible to quick draw) but that thing is just too cold. Probably should give a few offerings to Styx though now that I think of it. The handy return function is just so useful.

Anyway, the two main pouches are now divided into food and clothing. Aly's finally been organizing things as of late, since she's now carrying the bulk of now both of our long term things - extra winter clothing, sleeping supplies, double the food. Before she never needed to bother, but now she has to actually sort how she puts in everything. Not being able to see into the bag is a big drawback, but at least nothing gets jostled as she moves around.

In short, it's a really bad idea to try to get anything if under pressure. On the plus side, still yet to discover whether there's a maximum capacity for storage. We have enough non-perishable foods and clothing to last at least a year between the two of us.

There are two more practical pockets, which are actually normal. Aly uses one to carry her transforming flute. The other contains small amounts of on-hand cash and snacks.

The snacks … well, mostly lots of gum. She doesn't have any particular flavor preference, it serves better as an ADHD outlet. Something to "distract" ourselves with while focusing. Just constant snaps and bubbles whenever she can. Her favorite way of getting gum before meeting me was swiping it off people that the Greeks dumped away. It was quite simple to do after realizing the Greeks left gum in the bottle holder part of the give away backpacks.

At this rate, I'm also not ever going to stop chewing this stuff too.

And she still won't teach me how to blow a bubble.

* * *

"So, where to today, brat?" lolled out Aly from a rather awkward position. She was dangling upside-down in a hammock that she had set up between branches of a single worn and weathered oak about 15 feet up.

Percy, on the other hand, was already on the ground. He'd already put away his hammock, which had been tied to another large branch overnight.

"You are barely older than me, Aly. I think that the usage of brat really only applies when someone much older uses it on a much younger person," he equally lazily countered, leaning on the tree trunk that supported the redhead.

With her fully roused, he finished cutting his nails with a nail clipper he had nicked from a store months ago California. After having broken his rather long fingernails in a chase from a group of exclusively Roman girls, likely of Bellona, he'd resolved to always keep his nails cut close, just to keep such from happening again. Aly bit her nails, so it wasn't really any issues for the girl.

"Well that's a pity, Perce," drawled the redhead, "I'm really running out of things to call you. I suppose I could always dig through the Shakespearean insult book you picked up as when you were bored."

She pulled out a water bottle to hydrate herself along with a pack of gum from her deceptively small bag. "If you answer my question, I'll give you gum?"

"Not now. And you should really get down first," said the Son of the Sea from below her.

"Fine, fine. Catch." The Daughter of Apollo replaced her gum and dropped her bag down.

"Dear gods, Aly," Percy muttered as he shifted far to the right to catch the their supplies that the lass dropped. Successful in his venture, he continued. "It's a beautiful morning, and we need breakfast. Unless you aren't hungry?"

Aly tittered lightly. "Well, we're still a few bits out of Salt Lake. I reckon that this gum can last that long, and what's the bet we run into some kinda monster? Though I could probably use more practice with the scamming tactics."

"Which ones again?" asked the boy as he erased all traces of their stay. "I've forgotten how many I learned from my gig with the Thief Lord."

Quickly pulling away at the knots on the ends of her hammock and haphazardly dropping it to Percy to store, his partner nimbly descended, lightly hopping down branches to the ground. If she weren't so light, she likely would have broken through the wood.

"Ya know, I kinda freakin forgot?" She followed Percy as he led them out of the large park they had spent the night in. "Where we headin'?"

"Saw a Denny's not too far off."

"Aw … my fave!" She whistled jauntily, pulling out a few pennies and tossing them into the air with one hand, the other busily threading a dollar around her fingers. Her bag bounced in time with the loud tune, a peppy one she had picked up from who knew where.

The skies were bright in the summer morning, and the pair slipped past a few early visitors.

Percy eventually fell back next to Aly, briefly inspecting the road before jaywalking across with his associate. They both entered to find the restaurant completely full. Perusing a little more carefully, the duo found a table for four that only had a dozing teenager almost laying on top of his pancakes.

"Do you mind if we join that guy?" Percy asked the receptionist as he eyed Aly's twenty dollar bill and mess of quarters.

Aly only smirked, full of mirth as she (somewhat in respect to other customers) stopped whistling and began humming.

"Not at all," the likely college student working for money replied as she picked up two menus and slid through the arrangements of tables to the corner, where the teen lay snoring. "He's been here for a half-hour already, said he was waiting for a girl that still hasn't shown yet."

"Probably got stood up, eh?" commented Percy.

"Definitely wouldn't want to date some drunkard," tittered the employee. Aly tittered in agreement. She quickly sat and peered at the menu, ordering her pancakes with a swiftness only known to those who desired to drizzle diabetic sugar onto layers of stacked brown patties. After the waiter that took Percy's always order of his (naturally) blueberry pancakes and her strawberry pancakes, she inspected the sleeping teen.

Curly black hair, fairly tall, rather messy. Likely hungover, by the looks of it, and not going to overhear his conversation. Having sat next to the unknown boy, she turned back to the the Son of the Sea as he said, "Should we head back north again? We should definitely establish some kind of permanent base, and with all the smaller groups there it might be ideal for us."

The ginger tsked in a light manner, tapping away at the table with the handle of a butter knife. "There's been a few places I've been to in the North area. Nothing really promising there besides possible recruitment of other people. The coastal area above the Greeks is just a constant shit fest."

"I suppose so … the Greeks sorta do shelter them there. There's just nothing up there in the Central North area though … Montana, the Dakotas, and what other state? Minnesota?"

"Most people avoid the Great Lakes area. Places over there are generally fricken full of monsters. The Laestrygonians make Chicago their home - something about it being similar to Sicily," she said with a lilt, tilting her head to watch a plate of steaming pancakes that she could tell was just for her.

The disappointed look on her face when she realized it was blueberry pancakes that would go to the boy at her opposite. Percy decided to notate that expression in his journal, just to remember it better in the future if he ever looked back at his journal. "So no then?"

"No harm in it. And where the hell is my food?" But even as Aly opened her mouth to curse, another plate of food left the kitchen with the heady scent of strawberry and was deposited before her.

The duo ignored conversation and instead savored their pancakes as they dug in, pouring over thick maple syrup and gorging themselves upon the whipped cream topped towers. Half an hour later they were finished, and prepared to leave. But as they thought they were getting the bill, the waitress came over with a pie. "The pie you ordered, sir. To go?"

Aly gasped. Chocolate cream? "What the hell is this for, bastard?" she cried as the server cleaned up their plates.

Percy smiled sheepishly, ruffling his hair in embarrassment. "You really should keep some sort of time-keeping device on you. It's your birthday."

The redhead reached over the table to punch him in the arm. "You ass! I just forgot about it because I thought we would share a celebration! Isn't yours in like three weeks?"

It was. August 1st and August 18th.

The boy laughed. "I'm sure you meant 'Thanks, Percy. You're so nice! I won't curse at you anymore!' If not that, you're still technically paying for it. I was just hoping to surprise you with it later."

Sighing, Aly conceded, smiling glady as she tossed down the money she'd been fondling earlier.

However, another redhead had entered and immediately moved in their direction to seat herself across from the hungover curly haired teen. The girl's keen green eyes panned over everything, to rest upon the money that Aly left on the receipt to be taken.

A waitress came by and took the bill, and Percy placed down two bucks for tips.

However, the new redhead's eyes narrowed, and the teen almost loftily asked, "Why did you only pay a dollar and change for an almost 20 dollar meal?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, -" Aly started, only to have the girl interject "Elizabeth" before Aly could continue.

"Elizabit-" Aly began again, only for Percy to cut her off with the question, "You didn't see the twenty?"

Aly glowered at Percy. Pluto below, that would have been one of the best comebacks. The unrest and consequent slamming of fists onto the table courtesy of one daughter of Apollo led to the waking of the hungover teen.

Blue eyes burst open, contrasting with his pale visage and black hair, and a moan emitted from blood-red lips accompanied his waking. The teen, soon realizing he had food before him, immediately began shoveling food into his mouth. The pancakes were quite cold, having sat there for almost an hour while he slept, but he chowed on.

The three others at the boy's table, previously set to argue, were only immediately ashamed just by being in the near vicinity of the messy eating of the awakened and clearly voracious boy. The new redhead was bewitched with silent horrified curiosity, viewing the gaping contents of the mashing motor mouth that seemed to comprise the entirety of the awakened male. Moments later, she was jolted out from that state when the waitress picked up the tip with a simple thanks. The two other people at the table had disappeared out the glass doors.

* * *

"Why did ttthey leave?" the black haired boy asked the apparently named Elizabeth, mouth still chewing through bits of no longer fluffy pancake. "Was it sommmething I d-did?"

The redhead in her conservative skirt and t-shirt, the latter detailing Greenpeace, simply smiled instead of facepalming as many others would. Well, she did lean forwards to rest her elbows on the table and cup her freckled face with her hands, but it wasn't a facepalm. With the slight grin, she quietly teased, "Well, I imagine it was your lack of manners. It's not exactly polite to eat your food like that, you know."

The disheveled black haired boy, finished with his breakfast reached down to the seat to pull up a thermos, and spun off the cap quickly to access the sweet smelling crimson liquid within. Drawing up the container, he gulped and chugged away without spilling a single drop, staining his lips even further. "It also could have been how I questioned them paying for an about twenty dollar meal with only a dollar bill and a few pennies."

With a smack of the lips, Elizabeth watched as the boy exhaled. "Well, I thhhhink it might that they knew you didn't tell them yer name. Like, e-eeearlier, I he-heard my name. Do y-ya think they know everyooo-one's names?"

The amount of sugar he consumed in addition to a likely natural hyperactive disorder led to probably slurred his words beyond the slight stuttering.

"Maybe," the now apparently girl not named Elizabeth acquiesced, "I would suggest we find them, but I'm quite sure we'll meet them again."

The boy before her nodded with the speed of a cheetah - or leopard? However, such quick movements only caused dizziness, and he desperately avoided throwing up by putting his head down on the table to orient himself.

"And I want my breakfast right now, so just keep lying there," not-Elizabeth tutted.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 42

In terms of developing a bigger crew, I think we've expanded pretty heavily this week.

* * *

"Still cheating businesses there? Enjoy the pie?"

"Shit! Where in the infinite hole of Tartarus did you come from, you soulless ginger! You made me drop my money!" cursed Aly, surprise bringing out her profanity as she scrambled to pick up some clinking coins.

Percy played with a nice amethyst necklace as he nicked from a store just that morning. He much more tactfully said, "Never introduced ourselves. I'm Percy. That's my friend Aly, who is also a soulless ginger. Any reason you're here, Elizabeth?"

Indeed, about a month later, they were once again meeting the red-haired, green-eyed girl for Greenpeace. The girl was distinctly dotty, a rather strange aura of surrealness that seemed to warp the air as she sat on a bench before them. Her oddity, beyond the fact that she'd found them in a completely different city several states away, only was increased by the same drunk boy was laying on her lap drinking what smelled like concentrated diabetes.

"Well, I didn't exactly follow you as go to where I knew you would go to next," exclaimed the girl gleefully as swung her legs back and forth, not upsetting the boy's resting position.

"And how were you aware of that?" Percy continued to investigate as he tightly gripped Aly in hopes of keeping her from responding. The two of them had discussed finding more allies, and these two strange people could definitely fit the bill. Certainly, they had some skills if they'd tracked them down hundreds of miles. It wouldn't do for Aly screaming out what was likely her own variant of Elizabeth's name and scaring her away.

"Maybe because I'm the Oracle of Delphi!" the girl whom he believed to be Elizabeth claimed brightly. At Percy's sceptical face, she continued, "Like, I know your name. Percy."

"Oh, maybe, I dunno, you found that out by listening to me call that retard by that name coming over here?" Aly snipped, no longer deterred from speaking by Percy's painful grip on her arm.

"Well … then fine. My friend Dakota here said he heard his name spoken while he was half-asleep, and this is Bismarck - nowhere else really to go to in North Dakota. It would be hilarious if his name was North, though, huh?" the girl continued almost undeterred. "And I kinda told a lie to you before. My name's actually Rachel Elizabeth. Fair's fair, you told me your names and all."

"And how'd you find us here? Why not South Dakota?"

"I'm pretty good with computers. Hacked into the traffic camera system. And my friend and I did spend a week there before coming here. Ended up just staying here because no reason to go anywhere. And now you show up! Did you guys walk all the way? Or perhaps take a tour of the world first? Took so long!"

"Walking's less stressful than public transportation. Too many mishaps when we try."

"Don't suppose you guys know how to drive? You two looks old enough to, and surely you two scam artists aren't afraid to rob one."

"Thought about it, but too easy to track when used. Stolen cars get reported, and even if not stolen the license plate can be followed. Covering that up long term is too hard."

"I suppose that explains it," mused Rachel.

"Why you here?" Percy finally got to his own question, shaking his head in slight confusion from the new redhead's fast paced inquisitorial nature.

"Oh! Well, you two seem powerful, but only a duo! Knowing Mist magic, that's some pretty hard stuff. You guys are likely looking to create a group. You two have been making a name for yourselves recently - most groups have heard rumors of a duo making their way by storm across the West recently. With that sort of reputation, you're rather going to get targeted and eliminated, forced to be on the run, recruited, or get stronger.

"I don't believe you guys can get strong enough to wipe out crews of hundreds of people by yourselves, now can you? You've probably thought on this yourselves. If you have any pride or sense - and it seems you do - you'd choose the option of getting stronger with quantity."

Rachel finally took a breath, and almost motored on. However, Dakota lifted his head to speak before she had the chance.

"What … ssshhe said."

And then plopped right back down.

Looking at the original pair's somewhat skeptical faces, Rachel sighed. "Don't underestimate him. Dakota's helped me get survive these past few years after I ran away from home. We've got a supplies established pretty much everywhere - we can help."

"Well, I suppose things are really moving along, Perce," sighed Aly, "This could work though. Let's sneak into somewhere? We'll need to talk more, and that's gonna take awhile. Oh, and you're in, fellow soulless human being."

"Well, actually, our stuff is across the city … let us go get it?"

* * *

"You'd think with how damn large the U.S. is, it'd be more difficult to run into fellow freakin demigods," commented Aly as she aggressively parried an Imperial Gold spear of a most likely Roman scout group leader with her Stygian Steel weapon. "If you would distract this sod for me, Perce?"

However, her partner Percy was only focusing on the two males that were trying to break through his guard. Ducking a spear - what was the Roman name for it? Pilum? - then grabbing it and pulling on it, he went to slice the weapon in half, but had to retreat when the other jabbed at him with one of two gladiuses. Gladii? On that matter, dual wielding? "Bit busy here."

Indeed, Aly was merely weaving through the prodding spear of a glossy black haired girl with equally dark, piercing eyes at the moment. Finally ducking through, Aly brought around her metal bar and bashed into the gladius of the other female, who seemed half distracted manipulating plant life. The bar rebounded with calculated angle and force, and Aly spun around a full 360 in a completely unorthodox motion and clubbed the spear user in the head.

"Well, I only have one fricken piece to my weapon and you have two! And I already got one brat, so deal with the other!" The redhead retreated behind Percy, her steel weapon lengthening into the marvelously crafted instrument it was. She began to play, wisps of steam curling away from the insertion of warm breath into a cold interior.

An airy melody floated through the air as Percy successfully sliced a deep gash into the weapon arm of one gladius wielding male, at the cost of the back of his shirt. She watched, still playing away as Percy pulled back to face the pilum user male. Meanwhile, the plant weaving brown haired female rushed to heal the gladius user.

Percy smirked as he played with his knife, tossing it up into the air, letting it revolve before catching it while also spinning the metal bar of the other half in his hand. As his remaining enemy warily approached, the redhead glimpsed a sleeping hogtied male archer behind the motley Roman crew, likely a Son of Apollo or Athena judging by bright blond hair.

Her strain of music almost broke when Percy's wrist snapped out. The motion of his knife flipping blade over handle was hypnotizing as it left to meet the female between the eyes by the handle, knocking out half the leftover attack force. By sheer luck, she fell upon the person she was healing, keeping the warrior pinned under her weight.

The remaining male stood, eyes corpse cold and calculating as he considered his odds, the odd melody in his ears prickling away. The Daughter of Apollo could just see his brain ticking away, trying to understand what the pretty sounds were for as he tried to keep track of Percy. Perfect.

The lightly traveling pitch of the flute suddenly peaked in a sharp whistle, and the final remaining enemy dropped his weapon in agony in order to cover his ears, as the other male stopped struggling to free himself. The victorious girl stopped playing to cackle and gloat, "And I got the rest of the idiots!"

At least before noticing that Percy was also rolling around in pain. "Ah shit, I hit you partially too then?" the ginger groaned as she walked up to him and poked him, releasing the shuddering green-eyed Greek from her magical spell.

It was both the illusion of pain that came from both the innate wrongness of her final note of music, and the sorcery straining through the melody that locked all but the most practiced minds into a symphony of pain.

"Damn it, Aly! Aim better!" was the first thing that came cursing out of her friend's mouth as he struggled to rise, almost instigating a slight argument. "You need more practice with that one."

Neither noticed as the nearby pilum user also rose, in pain but prepared to attack. However, the somewhat unhinged warrior quickly noted the 2 to 1 odds and made his decision. "I wish to negotiate for surrender."

* * *

"Who are you? And for what?"

Bryce turned sharply to see who responded, before grimacing in pain from the quick movement. The two who'd brought down his team weren't just two then. Two more enemies, fresh and back from gods knew where. "Bryce Lawrence of the Romans. And just give me a second, please …"

Still, all was well. It would be too easy manipulate everything into his favor with such willing enemies. They weren't Roman, there was no way then - any Roman group didn't take surrender when victory was already achieved. He would just have to pretend to be sacrificing what seemed to be a lot while achieving his goal.

"We're clearly defeated, but too numerous to capture for a long period of time to trade and I find it unlikely that you will kill us. We've already lost. We are still obviously incapacitated," began the beady eyed boy as he gestured around his fallen group, "I propose that you take away our prisoner and the fallen girl nearest to you," pointing out the tied blond behind the Romans and the first girl to be knocked out, the black haired girl.

"As Hank," gesturing to the other sound assaulted male behind him, "is a dedicated Roman soldier and is injured, a burden to heal if you are to take him. Leila is not of much worth - too untrained - I doubt of value to other forces, I willingly surrender our Apollan prisoner and the rather insubordinate if well trained Roman here. Surely we can make a deal?"

"And why would we want them at all?" lolled out Aly, who inspected the poker-faced enemy.

Well, he hadn't thought out that far ahead. There was no way he could be able to kill the one he was trying to sell out by himself at this point. Hank was already beginning to wake up. "I'll give you half our stock in godly food. It's the best I can do. Please, spare us for our attack and allow us to return to the east coast," Bryce pretended to beg.

"Fine." Score. The fearsome boy he battled picked up his now former petite partner. The unconscious girl that Aly clubbed in the head was still out of it, and the large male foe he hadn't faced walked over to wake the archer in Roman camp. Seeing how the musician's brown eyes tracked his movements, he carefully follow his word and took out four ziplock bags of ambrosia and two canteens of nectar.

No real loss though. "My thanks," slithered out. Bryce's grin slowly widened as the winners of the fight moved on from the battleground.

"So, a lot happened while we were retrieving our things?"

"No shit."

Percy and Dakota merely continued transporting their prisoners as they searched for a safe place to get things sorted, even as the redheads began squabbling. They gathered little attention, oddly enough as it was, pulling along a now conscious yet still tied blond behind them and carrying the likely concussed black haired girl. Mortals were surprisingly accepting of the strangest things, even if it was the Mist.

Even if they couldn't tolerate basic things like gay marriage. Seriously, when he learned of it not being legal, he decided it was good to be demigod if he didn't have to deal with stupid shit like homosexuality being wrong. His mother had taught him better, bless her soul. That, and perhaps because Greek and Roman civilizations were accepting of such behavior.

Tapping Percy to get his attention, Dakota gestured at a church. That'd do.

* * *

"We could recruit these people too, hm?"

"Percy, is there something addled in that itty-bitty little mind of yours?"

In his attempt to curb her cursing, reflected Percy, Aly only really gained many more words that could be taken as an insult. If the object of her current ire - himself - was going to try to convince her to use fewer cuss words, she sure as Hades would up the ante with other mean words that she could find in a dictionary/thesaurus.

Lip curling, Percy leaned back in the chair in which he sat, crunching through Cheetos he pillaged from a vending machine he broke as a pseudo meal.

"Well, why not try?" he countered, somewhat pissed due to his already stressed temperament. "It's not as if we haven't gained any other members."

They had healed the Roman and adjusted the imprisoned archer, but both now handcuffed to chairs and kept inside confession booths (why the hell did Dakota carry handcuffs?). Rachel was currently tending to them very kindly, talking to each amiably while feeding them pickpocketed sandwiches from Trader Joe's. They'd each responded radically differently.

The blond archer's looks took after what he thought Apollo looked like - blond hair, blue eyes, somewhat of a looker. The funny thing was how he had a longbow, and only a longbow. Had he run out of arrows, or did the Romans who thought archers were wimps destroy the arrows? The boy had taken the situation quite well, likely due to having heard previous conversation about recruitment or being hogtied by the Romans for some time and being captured nothing new for him. He was a bit quiet, but talked readily enough for the odd situation for reasons unknown. He had told them his name - Lee Fletcher.

The Roman, on the other hand, was dead silent. She refused to lower herself to be fed by another, ducking Rachel's constantly outstretched hand that held a water bottle. The ebony haired girl hadn't really taken well to waking up captured by enemies, which was an obvious emotional reaction that anyone would have. The most interesting thing to consider, however, was exactly what she was angry at. Percy had sat across her for almost a half an hour, and the self-righteous Roman had met his eyes quite angrily for 10 minutes. The remaining time, her gaze had wavered. Her dark eyes had lost their focus on Percy, yet remained furiously pointed at his bodily self. It was disconcerting, but it was obvious she wasn't quite so angry at him rather than something in general.

Then she'd just closed her eyes. Perhaps meditating? It was only afternoon. The group just left her to her own devices.

"You wannnnnnaaa thinnnk about something weird?" slurred out Dakota, having splished water over his face to not sugar crash. Staggering from the row of chairs he sat at, he nearly knocked over a bench before bending awkwardly to rescue it. "We miserable demigods actuallllly get to gett away from one of the gibbest morrrtal arguments there are!"

"Hm?" Rachel commented distantly, filling in a church's coloring worksheet for little kids. So far, Jesus was looking far more like a DJ at a concert than hanging on the cross. Percy could only wonder how torturing a man to death was appropriate for kids. Well … then again, he fought monsters off almost daily.

"Weee don't have to religion abbboutt arguing!" said Dakota, swapping a few words around.

Percy and Aly, unfortunately, had already adapted quite well to Dakota's strange manner of speech. As demigods, you really had to be able to adapt. The demigod who didn't realize the body of a monster had dissolved into a swarm of venomous snakes would probably die writhing in pain compared to the one who got the hell away.

"Thhoosse wee ignorant mortals have so many arguments about stupid religion!" Dakota exclaimed in what he must have thought was a very graceful proclamation before laying on the ground (it wasn't as he tripped on air and fell flat on his face), holding up a pamphlet from the last sermon that was titled **SCIENCE IS SIN**. "Say what you want about thossse arsess upstairs, but at least we get the automatic knowledge that this kinda stuff stupid is irrrr-"

Crash. Topple. Snoring.

"He's sugar crashed," Rachel noted, as if Dakota's outburst had absolutely no significance. She walked over to the nearest confession booth, her clothing shimmering in the light gleaming through the painted glass church windows. Poking her head in, she asked lightly, "Anything to add, Lee?"

Aly snorted. Personally, Percy thought it was likely some issues considering her pretty boy half-brother. She never did learn exactly why Apollo was in his Roman form specifically for her conception. It was just generally impossible to ever hope to understand divine parents. She was convinced that it was important, though. Maybe because it set her out from all the other Sun kids. We've never heard of another Roman Apollo kid, so maybe she's right. But overall I only think the difference is that she knows Latin instead of Ancient Greek.

Percy turned slightly to watch as she simply continued rifling through all the music she could find in the chapel, looking to see any interesting pieces of music. He jumped up, now sitting on the organ above her, legs next to her arms as she rifled through the hymn book. He knew it was only an exercise in futility - she had yet to acquire any education on how to properly read music. She only knew how to mimic music she'd heard before if she wanted to play those sort of things, as far as he'd gathered from their travels. Anything original she could just improvise.

Lee's response was muted by the ruffling curtains of his booth. And if the scraping noises were of any indication, Rachel was dragging the guy out, still bound to a chair by the arms and legs.

"Lee here really has something to say about that, actually," commented Rachel, as if she hadn't just treated a boy dropping unconscious nonchalantly before dragging another boy out by a chair. Demigod life introduced you to strange things.

The blond took in a deep breath, before quietly monologuing in his rather uncomfortable position, "Well, I learned during my time with the Hunt that Jesus was actually a Son of Apollo from one of Apollo's trips for picking up music and poetry. The guy not only healed lots of permanent disfigurations and diseases, but also managed to recreate reviving people from the dead. So far as to revive himself from the dead using some kind of timed magic," detailed Lee, inhaling a deep breath before continuing, "He was made a minor god I don't know when, just like the other guy who revived people from the dead. Don't know how he is now, but that's what I heard."

Percy blinked at his heightened makeshift seat, trying to comprehend the tale as Aly moved to a position she could lean back to rest on his legs. That was certainly an interesting legend to leave. "And who was God then?"

Lee peered at Percy, whom the blue-eyed boy pegged as the leader of the four man group. Percy just seemed to radiate strength not found in the average teenage demigod that Lee encountered before. "I'll tell you if we strike a deal for me to join up with you guys," Lee responded, "Just a temporary thing, because I do want to return to the Hunters, but it might be awhile, til I find them again …"

"Well … fricken fine, I guess. But later. We should get moving damnit, there was a sign talking about a Wednesday night service outside and guess what bloody today is, arsehole?"

Maybe a lot more issues with the Hunters than he thought.

* * *

Perpetual twilight.

It was clearly not earth, but at least the sky was visible, if one could consider such an atrocity as visible. Said bastardization of the sky was strange, an interwoven tapestry of the most vivid Night and variable Day, where Darkness and Light reigned equally. The stars lit the Heaven, but what could be considered day and night were not supplied with any obvious source of light; there was no moon; no sun. The Earth did not lay alone in its lingering slumber, as all Water and the Sea ran erstwhile across the world. All things of Nature grew throughout, Created to be the Life to rule and exist - for Fate would draw them deep within, where the Underworld yawned; its only purpose was to consume all, yet all would be left to the heartbeat of Time that reverberated through the alien landscape.

It was the dream of those that still remained. Those who were beyond comprehension, if not understanding.

After all, it was they who knew the night and darkness existed before day and light in the heavens, and so the world was created in the waters of salt and waters of no salt. The sky came into being, kissing the earth, just as much as the underworld sundered the earth.

But time, nor fate, nor nature, nor creation, nor life waited.

The very world wished for itself as it was once, regardless of which of their compatriots still lived among them. The sky fell in an age long gone, and the earth tread upon its own path. But such primordial powers were not one to stop due to any small issue. The roaring seas, the ever expanding underworld, the unending pit, the boundless skies, the fortress of earth. Such may have been ruled by others, but it was created by them.

It would return to as it once was.

The nights were becoming darker, and the days lighter. The skies up in the far atmosphere were gathering, the sea currents of the far deep were churning, the molten depths of the earth were heaving. Turmoil boiled within the pits, the primal jungles grew once more, lakes and streams roared along with the natural life seemed to be fighting for its place once more. _In time_, it seemed to say, _as fate decrees_.

* * *

**Aly's Take on the Author Notes…**

_Apparently they do. Finish the Author Note and you'll know soon._

Freaking god forsaken little piece of crap author, paradoxed is.

_I object._

Don't care. Anyways, apparently this guy was inspired by some other shit character to write me of all people. ME! It just flowed out, apparently. Idiot.

_I object._

YOU TOLD ME TO SAY THAT BLOODY STUFF.

_No, I object to you calling me an idiot._

THEN BE MORE SPECIFIC, YOU TWAT.

_Spare me. It took so long to find a proper name! Aly only came from a long hunt for a suitable name across baby-naming websites! Anyssa for purity in Greek, into Alyssa, sanity in Greek. You're as hell not pure nor sane!_

SAY WHAT?

_What. Anyway, it's fine those don't fit, since your real name isn't either of those._

TELL ME MY NAME.

_Hush, dear child. In time. __Please favorite, review, follow, volunteer to be a beta. _


	16. KoK V2 C3 My Anthem

"_I befriend people too quickly - I don't think that's wrong, but I get told that I should be a bit more careful." -Nicole Appleton_

* * *

"What do you want most, Percy?"

The boy being questioned shook himself awake. What time was it? He glanced down at his watch. _2:27 AM_.

Oh jeez. He shifted in his chair, trying to get more comfortable. Pulling himself up a bit, he drew up his right leg. Judging by the weight gripping on his left leg, Aly was sleeping on it. Again. Gods, it would be so numb later.

Where were they? Some room. Two exits, one conventional, one unconventional. Ok.

"What …" yawn "did you say again, Rachel?"

Glancing over - first confirming that yes, Aly was drooling on his leg - his eyes blearily traced Rachel's silhouetted figure in the window by the door. The moon was bright - full? - and there was something that the new redhead was caressing in her hands … something silver? It was so hard to distinguish.

"You want to fondle it too?" The ginger brought up the object. Seemed like a rock. Maybe some silly putty, considering how it was being reshaped.

"Not after how you described it," responded Percy, more awake.

"I suppose back to original question then," acquiesced Rachel, moving away from the window. Wait … it was supposed to be Dakota's watch. But with how the guy was, Rachel probably decided to take it.

It was probably a bad idea to let people he never met before take watch, now that he thought about it. He'd instantly fallen into this routine with Aly, since they'd sworn on the River Styx. Perhaps try that again?

He should probably ask Aly about that first. It was their thing, after all. But for the short term … "Swear on the River Styx you and Dakota won't turn on us."

Rachel cocked her head curiously at him. "How cute. You don't know."

"Don't know what!?"

"Well, to say before anything else, you'd be dead already if we'd wanted you dead. You two have been asleep for hours, and Dakota and I could take you two down easily if we wanted to beat you two after you guys tired out."

Admittedly, Aly's magic had taken its toll on her. Usually she'd have waken up if Percy moved too much.

"And for the oath part, it doesn't take on mortals."

"Huh?" Rachel was mortal? Oh … like Mom. Well, it seemed like that was she was a demigod, but they hadn't had time to discuss it. "Why not? And why are you on the run, then?"

"You need divine blood for the River to care about punishing you. And … ah, yes, monsters don't target me, nor demigods, so no one would force me away. Nothing interesting about human meat when there's so many fresh demigods and fellow monsters to eat or fight around," explained Rachel, tucking her feet under her legs as she sat on the ground opposite of Percy. "I wanted to get away from home, though."

"Why? What could be so bad?" Percy couldn't comprehend a life where you didn't _want_ home. "Probably every demigod's dream to have some stable life!"

"Yes … but I couldn't stand my parents. Perhaps you were blessed, but I didn't get along with mine. And when Dakota exploded into and out of my life, I took my chances with him. I don't regret it," said Rachel, eyes fixed on Percy's. Green reflecting green. "Now, I believe I asked what you want most, Percy."

The Son of the Sea was stuck. A response wasn't quite there - what was there he really wanted? When he was still a kid, he'd wanted stuff that his mom couldn't buy. Now, he could just steal it. Everything that he wanted back them now seemed so … irrelevant. Childish. He kinda wanted a safe place to stay, but that seemed so irrealistic. For all the groups he'd heard of and been in, he couldn't think of any that had only one established home.

"Take your time," chided the ginger. "Not an easy question."

If anything, it was just to … "I just want to live."

"Hmph. Boring." Well wasn't that just a heartwarming response.

"Boring? What am I supposed to want? Anything physical I can just steal! Aly's been the only person I needed in this twisted world! What's so bad about just wanting some security on the fact of my existence?! Gods are immortal, but their children can just take all the crap in life and be mortal? Fine, if I have to, but at least let me live a good amount of time!" Percy paused to calm himself. Wow, he didn't mean to get that riled. He'd almost waken Aly in her post-magic exhaustion.

"The thing about wanting only to live, Percy, is that it's not living. It's surviving." Rachel looked off at Dakota, who was lying across several chairs like an absolute sloth. The unconscious teen's shirt had ridden up, exposing some odd vine tattoo along his side. "I'm sure there's other stuff that you just haven't thought about. Yes, you want to live, but did you think about wanting to keep Aly safe? And on living long, did you think about a future beyond just running away from other demigods and monsters? You need education for that. And what about changing the system so you don't have to live this way?"

Percy slouched back into his chair, taken aback. "Oh … I suppose I haven't then."

His promise with Aly was only not to betray her, not to support her or be with her forever.

Gods, that was a scary thought. She'd literally been a constant companion for more than six months now, outside of civilized restrooms. Wait. "Is it selfish for me to want Aly to be stronger so that she could protect us?"

"Without having to fight for survival as much as demigods do, I've had more time for thought. And that? It would be, if it was just to protect you. But do you want her to be better just so that she'd be better for your survival? Or for herself?"

Then he wasn't selfish. That was a relief … "What would you call that feeling?"

"Me, personally?" Rachel smiled, a motion that lit up her face in the darkened room. "I like to think of it as love."

Percy's gaze averted from Rachel's knowing look. Love? Really?

"Don't think of it too hard. Maybe you picked up love as a thing that you only have in families and couples. Or you see it tossed around between kids, just wondering if they even mean it if they use it so casually," the ginger lectured as Percy nodded along. "But it's up to you to define it for yourself, and how so. Look at all those love poems and songs. In fact, look at Romeo and Juliet - who's to say what type of love is right? You probably didn't get a chance to read the last thing, but that's just two teenagers who've known each other for a few days. Honestly, the best person to go to on this is Aphrodite - she's the goddess of all types of love, not just the ones people think she stands for. Me? I can only believe like a human can."

That would be a lot to think about. "And the other stuff?"

"I've put plenty of things in your mind to consider already, Son of the Sea, I think you should sleep for now. After all, you are the ever present tide … hm … I don't quite remember if it's the pull or the push right now …" and the enigmatic newcomer returned to the window, muttering to herself as she played with the silver … dagger?-scissors?-key? … in her hand.

Settling back in his chair, Percy thought. Besides what he thought of Aly … a different way to live, beyond just surviving … ?

Education … ? Seems too much a long shot …

Changing the … changing the system? … zzz … zzzzzzz ...

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 43

So, just yesterday Rachel's managed to get the Roman to take food from us. I guess she's just too hungry? Not that our food is the best made …

Actually, Rachel's been able to cook up our food better than just putting it over a fire. Apparently all Aly and I ever did was roast or heat up food when we'd used our supplies.

Cutting keeps the flavor inside the herb or berries, apparently? And crushing spreads it.

I don't know what kinda precedent it was to meet and get along with Aly first. Another week into getting to know these people, and I'm not quite sure about how it's going.

Rachel's as batshit insane as Aly, if in a different way. This week, I've been woken up for "what doe you think is the meaning of life?" and "do you believe in aliens?"

Just question and question after question - and the few times I can ask her questions I just end up with more myself. Asking about her, about Dakota, about her opinions on things … it's a like dropping into Tartarus.

Dakota seems so unapproachable. The guy is like - eighteen? What kinda practically adult guy is fine with following two fourteen year olds? Can't quite ask him though. He seems content to just drink whatever jacked up Kool-Aid and seems to go through as much diabetic candy as there is in Aly's bag per day.

The guy's a solid fighter, so far as I can see by the body count. Watching him, I have yet to understand how the hell his fighting method works, but he's beaten everyone he's come across so far. He's been the one managing the Roman when we're moving about, since Rachel volunteered him for it.

Honestly, I feel like he's just doing what Rachel's telling him to do. Well, at least he's fun with cards, knows quite a few good tricks. Enough people to play Big 2 and stuff.

At least we don't have to share the night with them too much. They've already had their own tents and things. We had to steal Lee a hammock though.

On that tangent, I think he's the most normal. Well, beyond the 'what the hell is normal' because on no level am I to judge, the easiest to understand. And that is that he's not planning to stay. Like, what?

Aly wants to just straight dump him on the curb. And while she's killed other demigods before (wasn't that a shock to learn all of a sudden), she assures me she won't unless she can use his body to leave a message for the Hunters.

Good to know she draws the line somewhere, I guess.

But Lee sticks in Rachel's orbit. I don't really hate the guy - he's doing what's strategically best for his future if he wants to get back to the Hunters somehow - which is sticking by another group until he gets word of where they are. Still leaves a bad taste in my throat being taken advantage of.

At least he's pulling his weight. We bought some arrows from a group of Athenian kids - not stupid enough to try to rob those guys. Then again, Aly used her mist manipulation to give them about half the cash. Maybe not such a good idea, but odds are we won't have to regret it later. Having more long range backup never hurts.

The team, then, I suppose is rounding out. Rachel's decent up close, but hardly worth mentioning. She uses an Imperial Gold machete that she seduced from some Vulcan salesman. Dakota handles himself fine without a weapon - he generally uses the environment or just picks out the enemies' weapon from their hands and uses it against them. I suppose experience? I do with my knife and baton combo, so short range we're covered. We've got Aly's mid to long range musical Mist manipulation and she can hold off things long enough to get away using her weapon's base form. Add in pinpoint arrows and we're covered pretty well for now. And if - well, Rachel says when - the Roman joins, a spear user would be quite helpful. We still carry around her old weapon.

For a small team, we've got enough skill in various areas to go jack of all trades and fare well off against any usual enemy.

Clothing is doing well - actually, better than ever. I would feel guilty, but well, trying to 'survive' here. Good attire is essential! What does it matter pretty much all the t-shirts I get are blue? Aly likes to be a little more fashionable now that she's more comfortable raiding higher quality stuff (no point flying solo looking like a good target by dressing pretty). I don't even know the names to most of her stuff. I can only tell it looks good, with all sorts of intricate patterns and materials. Rachel has her stack of uniquely self-colored clothing that she deals with; Dakota has his variety of reds, blues, and purples to not get too many stains when he drinks; and Lee seems to like black. We wear jeans and khakis all around - they're practical in most all weathers, even if not in combat. A few pairs of shorts, only for the hottest of weather. Everyone does their own laundry. Not sure if the girls need bras, not gonna check. The two redheads deal with the Roman's cleansing, changing, and such. Hotel showers work beautifully when you know how to cheat yourself into a room there. Free toothpaste, shampoo, and even conditioner for the girls!

* * *

His turn to watch.

Swig.

Histurntowatchhisturntowatchhisturntowatch.

This time, Dakota was actually staying up for his night shift. It was one of those nights he just couldn't sleep, nights that came with no rhyme or reason, where -

_Annihilate. Wield. Construct. Destroy. Rebuild._

\- it would just not stop calling.

"Voices in my head, not just mine but not just yours, swinging about and a …" he mumbled on, eyes tracing around the forest clearing.

Which one again?

_Teutoburg. Wilderness. Armistice. Hűrtgen. _

No, no, no, Yellowstone. Returned back West.

Bad idea, really, with the number of feral monsters roaming about, but the few nocturnal beasts wouldn't dare prey on such a large group of strong scented demigods, especially not so concentrated.

Yet … a sawing noise.

_Telekhine. Piranha Sheep. Gryphon._

None of those. Usually those teeth bore through flesh. This Sounded more like … not wood.

Rope.

It was very faint in the night ambience, but Dakota could pick out strands snapping one by one. Which meant …

He crept noiselessly around an extinguished campfire, utilizing shards of moonlight to avoid trampling anything. Yep.

Roman girl was cutting through her bindings with a knife she'd probably kept hidden for a very long time. Dedication, that was, considering the few places the group hadn't checked for. However, the positioning of hands only allowed a very tenuous reverse knife grip, so the cutting was awkward and slower than necessary. Her feet were already free, and now she was trying to slice through the knot seizing up her wrists behind her.

_Traitor. Praetor. Lawbreaker._

What was it more testimony to, her focus or his stalking, that she had yet to notice him? Delicately, nimbly, Dakota plucked the knife from her hands.

The Roman froze.

"Nnnow now now, lassssssie. Yo-you've really got nowhere to go, escaping," tittered the not fully cognizant boy. He received a glare that would've sent most men packing. It was the eyes, he mused. The eyes had it.

_Intensity. Strength. Dedication._

A warrior who'd proved her mettle.

"Shut up," rasped the girl. Ouch, now that was a voice that hadn't been used for some time. She struggled on, trying to pull her arms free. "You know nothing."

"Oh, dearrrr. But I do."

_Gladiator. Fight. Sacrifice. _

And the girl locked eyes with him again. However, what anger was initially there was quickly replaced by mild shock, then the slightest tinge of fear.

What she saw was singular yet varied, focused yet unseeing, ambiguous yet absolutely certain. Madness, pupils focused into pinpricks despite the dark night as if he'd taken far too much drugs, the purple tinged blue iris a shocking bolt of color.

She stopped struggling again. What the hell was she up against? This guy was supposed to be the worst guard out of the entire group, with his drinking problems.

"B-but nooo matttter, no matter," slurred the Son of Bacchus. "What will bring you back to us? Will it be you running from the hellhounds?"

Taking her knife, he slit through one of the few remaining pieces of rope. "Trying to escape the call of the wild?"

Another strand of rope fell away. "Or the realization that no other group will accept you?"

The last vestiges of her bounds fell away, and she looked down at her trembling hands. The Roman numbly accepted the knife as Dakota dropped it into her hands. She hardly noticed that the boy was completely undefended as he pulled her face up by her chin, forcing her to look at his face again.

She focused on his liquid soaked lips, which looked bloody in the absence of proper lighting. "If you want to find us again, stick to heading Southeast. Casper. Denver. Kansas City."

He let go softly, then ambled away, still treading as softly as a panther..

Finally, finally, she was free of her ropes! Why wasn't she running? She'd been planning for weeks, and now she wasn't making her move? Every single thought devoted to analyzing the best moment, the weaknesses to exploit, considering whether her food would be drugged and if - if she would be - she would be taken advantage of.

Capture was far worse than death.

Dakota had returned to his previous position, not even at all appearing to care what she did. His attention had returned back to the wilderness around them, even as he hummed some song off tune.

Snatching up her spear, planted into the earth just by Rachel, the Roman took off without even considering slaying her captors.

She looked back only once.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 44

I'm actually starting to miss the Roman.

Like, it really did go no questions asked when Dakota said he let her go. Two weeks in, and no sign of her being willing to join. Sure, supplies aren't really that hard to get, but it was a waste of effort to keep watch over her full time.

Yet since the others have joined, it feels a bit strange to be missing a member of sorts.

Fights aren't as engaging when you don't have someone to babysit, I guess? It was more challenging having to fight a giant flying neon pink pig when there was more to manage.

Who am I kidding? I can't even write that with a straight face.

Not really much to say this week. It's been quiet. Heading into the Great Plains, where there's generally a safer place. Actually, I suppose that's something I can finally put down just in case I need to refer to it, now that the others have given me more information.

The West Coast is pretty much explicitly Greek territory. There's rumor that there's a group of Poseidon kids forming up in SoCal (South California), but I think that's just rumor. As powerful I might be, I don't think any less than twenty is enough to hold back the Greeks if they come recruiting. Though it does bring up the point about there being other Poseidon kids - I'm sure there's a few. But where would they be?

Anyways, the Northwest and Central North area holds fewer notable demigod groups. The Amazons are up there, for one thing. And maybe judging from a previous altercation, perhaps the Bellona/Enyo kids are there (apparently Bellona does have a Greek counterpart - who knew? Oh, that's right. Rachel, for some odd reason). But the feral monster population is higher there, mostly because of all the empty space.

It's sort of the same with the Great Plains, except for two things. Both the Hunters and the Huntresses wander that area quite often. So, beyond more monsters being there, you're dodging the entirety of 250 nomad Apollo kids and sects of the Huntress packs. Demeter and Bacchus kids could be there, but usually those kids will stick with other groups.

The Southern area is taken up by a literal riot of Mars and Ares kids, according to Aly. It's not good territory to infringe upon, since they manage their borders. The Southeast is Aphrodite and Hephaestus territory - never actually came across the Aphrodite kids, but Beckendorf was apparently having negotiations with them while I was under him.

The Romans hold down most of the East, though. They ruthlessly spsquash any other smaller groups from forming there. If Aly and I had started up on the East, we'd probably have been hunted down long before we'd met the others.

However, some parts are outside their jurisdiction. Washington D.C. is under completely locked down by Athena, from what Rachel tells us. So far as Dakota's told her.

Up further north by New York and further is where the Children of Zeus are. Infamously bad place to head to.

Who's left? Ah, Hermes/Mercury. Two roving nomadic groups, generally stick to the Appalachian mountain area. Basically just left of Roman territory, but avoiding the Great plains for the most part.

Dakota and Rachel filled in the gaps in Aly and I's knowledge for the Northeast. Lee, on the other hand, knows more about the monsters.

Laestrygonians apparently stick by their culture - they've completely taken over Chicago. New Orleans are overrun by telekhines, although according to Lee it wasn't so bad until some Daughter of Poseidon helped spark Hurricane Katrina.

…

Yeah, honestly, I don't know if I wanna meet this girl or keep away from her. Ignoring whether or not she's still alive after what she pulled off.

Cyclops aren't localized, but the majority of those not working for my father are in some company called Monocle Motors. Catchy.

Werewolves are also nomadic. Right now word of mouth says they're currently in the Kentucky area.

Party Ponies are in practically every state. Aly and I ran into a group few months back. They'd invited us in, it was a wild party.

I think that should about do it. Hera doesn't have mortal children, Hestia is a virgin, and Hades by what most people assume avoids siring any kids since the minor little thing called "World War II."

* * *

"Day 9. Still no sight of the Roman the Holy Prophet Rachel said would join us," mocked Aly, tossing down a pair of 4s. Hearts and clubs.

Things were turning out pretty ok, really. They'd hiked into Colorado today. Aly was getting to like Rachel better. Gingers had to freakin stick together. Even if putting down pairs forced her to pass her turn. Then again, she only had a few cards left.

Dakota, on the other hand, put down a pair of fives, before popping some TicTacs. The Son of Bacchus - well, actually they'd yet to ask him if he was but frankly it seemed kinda obvious - was the same as always, nothing to hate there.

And she was still waiting for as much information about the Hunters before she gutted Lee, who wasn't playing because apparently he didn't like cards. Tosser.

Percy, who'd yet to play anything until now, topped the round with a pair of jacks. Everything had settled back into a fairly nice rhythm, and thus all was well.

Kill a few monsters after breakfast, head out for somewhere. Find someplace to eat lunch.

Percy opened, having won. "Hearts flush."

Aly raised an eyebrow in astonishment. Topped with another Jack, too, so Percy's cards must've been that bad that he had to break apart a triple. "Hot damn, you've had that this whole time? Pass."

Walk around the nearest town and look around all the stores for something cool.

Picking through her cards, Rachel tossed out a flush made of spades. "The Roman will be back, Aly. Tomorrow, I bet. Honestly, where does she have to go?"

If some big-shot company, steal it. If some small-time business or service is excellent, flirt with the cashier operator to get a discount.

Dakota laid out a prearranged set of cards. "Sevensss over thhrrees."

Snatch a dinner. Play few card or board games.

But Aly knew that Percy had something better. Godsdamnit, that dyke's freakin smirk was so big. "Queens with aces."

Taking a look around, the Daughter of Apollo knew no one else had anything. "Asina mater fornicor, your win. And Rachel, I'll take that bet. A drachma."

"The victory card is …" laughed Percy, flipping around the card in his hand, "the underdog!"

A three of fricken clubs. Rachel giggled, gathering the cards to reshuffle, before nodding to Aly's offer.

"Oh, both you pieces of shit can go screw yourselves. Let's play poker."

* * *

Actually, the Roman wasn't really that far. Just outside of the camp, at the moment, tucked comfortably in a tree and carefully watching in the waning moon.

She knew she was being mocked.

Every day, without fail, she would check out their camp after they left. She was certain it was the inquisitory redhead that left some degree of supplies for her.

Absolutely humiliating. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and the nights were getting colder … she drew her cloak closer to herself, adjusting her braided black hair to accommodate.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she hadn't thought things through. At pretty much every point. She really didn't have the time, to, but that was no excuse. No excuse at all.

Since she'd washed up upon American shores, life had been pretty bad. Losing track her older sister from day one had sucked, but luckily she'd picked up on how to fight fast.

Lupa herself had found her. Stared right into her eyes, and pulled her into a mad world of constant conflict. Roman society as its most barbaric. Oh, the cunning wolf, who now had Romans as she originally wished - a nomadic pack of terrors, enforcing territory and raiding weak prey. Constantly mobile, not even bothering to set up camp for more than a single night. Subterfuge and slaughter to rise to the top, at best barely hidden from each other. There were some good soldiers, yes - she'd been one. Dedicated to becoming a praetor, to guide the Romans back to something that she'd imagined it to be. Irrumabo, it was so exhausting.

It had been her last gods damned mission before she reached centurion-ship. 2 years of complete commitment, doing her best to utilize what little skill she had in politics and continuously ensuring no knives were poised to stab her back. Building up loyalty with and between other honest Romans, working to keep an absolutely impeccable mission record, avoiding needlessly insulting any of the current centurions (regardless of whether the name was still accurate, for they weren't leading a century of troops). Even if it took her using her thrice damned mind control to do it.

_Aawoooooooo… _a howl trailed off into the night.

The sound was from … left. The Roman turned towards it, both legs dangling over the side and no longer leaning on the trunk.

The fact that she'd come so close, before being screwed over in such a horrid fashion was just absolutely soul crushing. The spawn of Orcus, she surmised, had been placed in her mission group, likely by some opponent vying for an authority position also. The boy's constant griping had worn away at her nerves - he was the type that would kill off his centurion to gain ranks if it worked.

She knew body language and how people acted. She knew that Bryce was trouble, the moment she saw his beady, cruel eyes. That Hank was more fit for politics, and Leila much the same. But she hadn't had enough time to analyze the people they attacked. They'd just snatched the archer, having been on a ransom run, and her group had decided to rest for the night. An hour later, Hank, who was scouting, pointed out the duo nearby that seemed ripe for the picking.

One captive was honestly enough already for a run - they'd gotten the most difficult run, having to go out all the way near Greek territory. Magnus opus, right? So why not. They gotten a somewhat decent drop on the two.

Then had gotten absolutely stomped. Rumor had said there was a strong pair going around the traditional no man's land. What were the bloody odds that they came across those two?

She was knocked unconscious by the most crass maneuvers she had ever encountered. She'd fought Greeks that had been less , captured. Only her, somehow. Seeing their group, it was unlikely they'd slain the rest. What was probably the best sign, though, was that Leila wasn't there. It ruled out sex trade and rape. However, though, that meant she was sold out. Which only Bryce would have done.

For two weeks she fought to get away. Fought to get back to a life, that, when she took a good look at … sucked worse than the vacuum of Tartarus.

Absolutely torturous, watching the motley crew learn to get along. The camaraderie was so aggravating, seeing it develop in mere days when she couldn't achieve anything of the sort within two years.

Excluding the archer boy, though. Seemed like he still rubbed the Son of Poseidon and Daughter of Apollo the wrong way.

_Aawoooo - Awouououou… _more howls, harmonizing.

When she'd ran, she literally had nothing but her weapons and clothing. In desperation, she'd doubled back to the camp later on to see if they'd left anything, despite knowing their camp routine. The other redhead - Rachel - had been anal on keeping the environment safe and clean.

But there was some food. Not much, but left there innocuously in the shadow of a few stones. And her Imperial Gold dagger and trusty silver pocket knife.

Beyond not having supplies to reach anywhere, she'd realized there was no place she could go. Traveling by herself would be a death sentence, especially in the recent climate. The Romans had been preying on stragglers and smaller groups more than ever, even starting skirmishes with groups like the whatever odd name the children of Aphrodite/Venus banded under, whoever it was, and the children of Hephaestus under Beckendorf. Demigods would jump at the chance for some revenge - it took very little effort to identify one.

Her torch and helmet brand tingled in remembrance of the excruciating pain. Each Roman had a brand, somewhere. Some people had it exposed somewhere obvious, proudly - on the arms in general was most popular, but some had it elsewhere. She kept hers on her back behind her right kidney.

If it was gonna glow every time she tried to use her abilities, she had to keep it somewhere inconspicuous. Also, she didn't have to look at herself and feel like cattle.

Wait … these howls were really familiar. She'd heard them before, at least once. Hanging out with the Romans followed up by something else … her eyes darted about, trying to pick out any sign of danger in the dim moonlight.

_Awoooooo…_ the howls trailed off, the wolves evidently moving away. The Roman relaxed.

Gods, her heart. If it didn't stop racing, she was going to have an anxiety attack. If it had been a shriek … she couldn't take this anymore - riding solo went against every Child of Rome's natural instinct. Time to swallow the remnants of her pride and hope for the best.

Steadying herself, she dropped from her branch.

* * *

"Godsdamnit, you did come back after all, Roman," sniped Aly from her seat on a small boulder. "Looks like I lost last night's bet, then." How did Rachel know she was coming back today, of all times?

The petite girl - shorter than herself, even, looked better in her week and a half of freedom. Looked like she'd done some exercise too, after stagnating for her stint in ropes.

"Couldn't fend for yourself anymore, weakling?" Oh, she looked salty as all hell. "And still as silent as ever. Gotta give that to you at least, if nothing else."

Was that grinding teeth she heard? Oh man, a pint sized ball of fury. Aly quickly finished bundling up some camp gear to deposit in her bag.

"Aly, please, must you?" Oops. Percy was sounding a bit too aggravated. She'd almost forgotten he was next to her, with how quiet he was being.

The mocking musician turned to waggle her eyebrows at the boy. "Taking her side, eh?"

She creeped up a little closer to Percy, pressing to his side.

"Fine, fine, ass. But only because it's you, dear," she whispered into his ear, breath puffing and ruffling his hair. Aly grinned as he squirmed away a little, then launched back and away.

"I'll go catch up with the others, wherever those dopes scouted off to. Ciao!" she called.

The exuberant ginger dashed away, and Percy stood up to properly face and observe the Roman. Hair as dark as his, but her eyes were sharper than obsidian. A certain confidence, now, that hadn't been present before. They regarded each other for a moment longer.

Since it was evident she wasn't going to talk first, even after waiting a touch longer, Percy finally spoke. "Are you expecting something?"

"The-" she rasped, before clearing her voice from disuse again, "the host speaks first. Roman custom."

"And how does that help with me not knowing exactly why you're here?" retorted Percy, smirking a tad in amusement.

But if the Roman was stumped, it only showed in the smallest twitch in the arm. "Just … habit. And stop taunting me, you know exactly why I'm here."

'Was it the food?" Percy wrist moved sharply, and his Stygian Steel rod formed into a sword, just in time to block the Roman's angry knife stab. "Rachel's cooking tastes loads better than field rations full time."

Pushing away the girl, he backed up carefully, ensuring that he didn't trip over anything. Meanwhile, the Roman moved her knife to her left and pulled her pilum whatever she used to keep it at her back.

"You know I don't have a choice! What else can I do?" she screamed at him. She wasn't pressing for an attack now - seemed that her earlier response had been in frustration more than desire to kill him. She was already breathing heavily, despite it being early morning and not really even fighting in the least.

"You had a choice. Just that the other led to certain death." Even if he wasn't as insulting as Aly, he couldn't help being as witty. At her angry look, he merely laughed lightly. "Not much of a choice, but still a choice."

Meeting Percy's unrepentant gaze, she calmed down. Her muscles visibly relaxed, her aggressive stance fading away. "I offer information so I can join your group."

Still, neither quite moved from their position. Percy eventually sighed and said, "You aren't going to kill me, then. Right?"

At the Roman's shake of her head, he nodded to himself. "Right, right, no benefit. Nowhere else to go, and such a suicidal move is no different than not coming back."

'Sheathing' his weapon, he gestured back to the area he'd camped in the previous night. "If we're going to negotiate, let's get more comfortable."

While he returned to where he'd been sitting next to Aly, the Roman found a decent place to sit on a worn stump across from him. "So … what kind of information?"

"Roman habitual travel paths and those of the East Coast," she responded promptly, giving no less and no more.

"Ah, yes … you almost certainly overhead the rest of us discussing … but that also means your knowledge is mostly obsolete," Percy pointed out.

She hesitated. "I know … but I do not have anything else to offer."

Percy quieted at the response. Her voice sounded like broken glass at the admittance of her incapability, her weakness. In his primal male instinct, he wanted to just hug her until he'd wrung out all her sadness.

"You and your …" - the Roman paused, evidently looking for the right word - "friends … have all you need. Supplies to last a year, strength to beat even some of more cohesive, established groups. I … can offer only nothing."

"Not even whatever you're doing to try to manipulate my will?" asked Percy distrustfully. It was the certain tingle … the girl blanched. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell, with one of my allies being a sorceress?"

He wasn't prepared for the girl to start crying though. "I … wasn't trying … to!" she sobbed, drawing in and hugging herself tightly. "I … don't want … to!"

Skata. First with Aly, no with whoever this girl was. Well, even the strongest of people had their breaking points. And she was definitely being honest about it. He could actually feel whatever power she was using do it - it was making him also feel vaguely tired and confused and desperate.

Carefully, he moved to kneel in front of the girl. Gently, he pulled by the shoulders her down to kneel with him. Looking at her downturned face - still looking vaguely regal, despite tears and a little snot running down her face - he pulled out a leftover clean napkin from a dinner some time ago to wipe her face. She froze, not moving a centimeter while he attended to her.

After he was done, though, she soon reverted to shaking. Tears were still running, now silently down in shame, eyes still averted. Gods be damned, he better not have to do this with every other girl he met.

Lightly, he pulled her in, letting her lay his on his right shoulder. She didn't fight it, but neither did she embrace him, merely keeping her arms to herself and between them.

"Hey now, it's ok … you're alright … don't stab me in the gut …" oops, he didn't mean to say that one …

Well, this situation was definitely different than the what happened between Aly and himself. And he certainly didn't know how to console her either.

"Feel any better?" he asked uncertainly.

What did he know about this girl again? Is Roman. Fights with a spear, and knives apparently. Can manipulate how he feels somehow. Has nowhere to go. Well, it was comforting to know he knew so very little.

The girl mumbled and sniffled inaudibly.

"Say again?"

Deep breath, and she drew back to look at him in the eye again. There was the spine he'd seen before. "Ask me something so I don't feel like I got into your group out of pity."

The Son of Poseidon smiled crookedly, moving back to his seat. "When did I say that you were in?"

"I'm not deaf. Rachel and Dakota for me joining, although Lee has a grudge against me and Aly seems perfectly willing to kill me," she said assertively, "but you have definitely shown yourself to be far too nice."

"Unless, Perseus," she continued as she eyed his currently non functional weapon cautiously, "you don't follow your namesake."

"Oh, do shut up. If you're coming with, just call me Percy," he quipped, before realizing something key. Still didn't know her name. Well, considering he'd heard stories of people going on dates without knowing the partner's name, this wasn't so bad. "And what should I call you?"

"Reyna," she said evenly, picking up and storing away her weapons.

"And last name is?" Percy asked again as he also finished gathering his few things.

He had asked around for everyone else's before. Aly hadn't even told him her real name yet, so it was no surprise that she didn't tell him last name either. Dakota said his was Bosky. Rachel actually seemed to be attentive and care when she told him hers was Dare, like it was supposed to recognizable. It wasn't like it was McLean or something. Lee's last name was Fletcher - if nothing else, showed Apollo wanted to be funny.

"Full name brings back bad memories," the now identified girl said monotonously.

The Son of the Sea slung his bag over his shoulder and led their trek away. "Nothing at all?"

"Avila, then." She was back to business, then - stoic and resolute.

"Mind more questions?"

"Only a few more, if you're going to be so nosy."

"How often do the Romans go to Manhattan?"

"They never go there, actually. Islands are a horrible place to stay at strategically if the location is known, and no sane demigods try to live in the city where Olympus stands. Not even Children of Zeus."

"What kinda pizza for lunch?"

"Hawaiian."

"How long you staying for?"

"Haven't thought about leaving at all until you mentioned it."

"What about heading out to Manhattan?"

"Are you crazy?!"

"Oh, so now you put emotion into your voice!"

"Because you suggest something insane!"

"Don't suppose you would take an Oath on the Styx for me then?"

"…"

"…"

_Sigh. _"I didn't sign up for this."

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 45

So I said the same Styx oath as before for the new deal between Reyna and I. Like, if I was going to get something special, awesome, right? But did I, did Avila? Well, kinda.

I got a special migraine for assuming that Styx would be so kind to give gifts again. The Oath didn't even take, because apparently I'm an 'arrogant insignificant little half-mortal' and that this and my previous oath would 'lose meaning' if it went through.

And now that I think about it, it's kinda true. For one, it's doing like what the gods do - they don't have imagination, from what I've heard - they like to just repeat history over again.

Also, swearing in such a way says more "keep your word, or else." I get the feeling it means more when it's more "I promise you I am willing to keep this oath even under the pain of …" lost the metaphor there. What exactly happens if you break an Oath on the Styx as a demigod? Well, a piece of gum to not finding out.

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure why the river goddess even came to Aly and I in the first place. We haven't made a huge name for ourselves yet, so we can't quite show off the weapons we got. She has to have a good reason to support us … so she must know something we don't.

But what could that be?

* * *

There was once an age where there was no enforcement of laws. However, while such a statement is true, it is very misleading.

It was not that there was no force policing the world. There were simply no laws to break. It was impossible that any wrong could have been committed. Things were golden.

From this age one woman began the arts: epics, music, poetry, hymns, dance, tragedy, comedy. Another brought forth the rivers, another brought the dawn, hailing the sun and moon; still others brought divine justice and much more. But with woman, man. The ruler of the eternal land surrounding river; the watcher, wise, bright with light; the bringer of constellations, father of power, destruction, dusk, wind, and star; the piercing greatness of the warrior of mortality - patron of the endurer of the sky, of the fire-carrying forethinker, and hope-keeping past-watcher, of doomed might; and the great gloried king of them all, manipulator of the fourth dimension.

It was in this era that the gods of the current time entered the world.

And ended the peace.

He would bring it back though. He'd been waiting to do so. It was his divine right, no matter what others claimed. They were gathering, those that could, his siblings.

But not behind him.

_Unforgivable._

The black fortress perhaps was not all there, wispy mist rising from black marble that was not necessarily fixed to the earth, but held in place by some ethereal power. His siblings were absent from their thrones, deep past the dark foyer and in the main hall. Everything shone with a hidden light, and the slow, haunting music of a piano lilted through the air. Statues made of night lined the walls behind each seat, modeled after each supposed inhabitant's likeness.

Regardless of anyone's actual presence, though, his ceremony would continue. Empty seats faced a large dais that sat between two bronze braziers. The dias itself was full of scenes of death and destruction. Gods trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks burned to the ground.

Despite the roaring green fires that sat within the braziers, the dias radiated an aura of extreme cold. Or rather, perhaps the sarcophagus upon caused the effect. It was actually quite plain, just solid gold about ten feet long. The only thing that could be considered intricate about it was the frosty gold pattern that originated from the coffin. If there was any way to describe it, it would be that there was some electronic grid that sat beneath the casket. Light played along the wiry format of gold, and a distant whispering was audible as the light traveled along the wires to the casket.

* * *

**Rachel's Take on the Author Notes**

_Are you actually going to do this seriously?_

Are you sure whether AN is Author's Note or Author Notes?

_I … haven't thought about it._

Coouuursse he hasn't. Wwhhhyy would paraadoxed think!

_And Dakota's take too, I guess. I certainly didn't conceive you showing up either._

Yes, you did. You chose to do this. paradoxed is just so cute trying to amuse readers.

_Yep. Wait, what?_

Honestly, are these notes even necessary? I don't think you're sharing any important information. I admit it used to be … but now?

19/6/15 upppdaate. Nooow where'sss my … my drink!?

_Are you British? And let me do it! Edited 7/10/15. I get the last word in, not you._

Only because you rewrite the chapter. Shame on you.

Hushhhhh. HUUUUUSSSH. HUsushushshshshshhsuuhs. Children, children. Leeet me speak. The author wants more response please. He needs thatttt - inner peace - hummm - to work onn! Heee can't do ssooo welll gettinggg so littlee ressponsee!

_Uh … sigh, I got nothing for that. Gods, writing this with both of you two in it makes it so much harder for me to deal with._

13/7/15 edited!

Dakota, the chapter you're referring doesn't exist anymore because of the author. Readers, please ignore the previous line. I'm afraid my friend has had a bit too much of his brain being addled.

_Yes, continuity, please._

15/7/16 rehauled!

_Why do I even ..._

**Alternate Title: Decoding Dakota and Co.**

Well, the order for this stuff has sure gone out of whack.

And whooose fault iss that?

_A note on chapter titles. Imagine Dragons=Roots, twenty-one pilots=Heathens, and (rest in peace) Christina Grimmie=My Anthem. Chosen for good reason, albeit the last one with a tad more. _


	17. KoK V2 C4 Liebesleid

"_It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him." - J. R. R. Tolkien_

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 53

Damn. It took three more weeks than I'd hoped to get here.

Ya know, it might be slightly concerning how unreactive our group is to insults. We don't really argue that much anymore - we're actually getting along fairly well. From the books I've read to alleviate boredom over the years, it seems quite strange to have such a cohesive group. We all have similar enough senses of humor across the board, and while our actions may be exasperating and frustrating to deal with *cough cough Aly cussing *cough Dakota drinking *cough Rachel drawing ON EVERY SINGLE DAMN THING WITH THOSE STUPID MARKERS SHE FINDS. Um. *Cough *cough. Where was i? Was that even a full sentence? Ah well, no eraser.

Sigh … I should focus. I really should. Don't have much time to write.

Some things are still off. It seems a some of the group holds a residual grudge against Lee, and Aly is touchy with her trash talk. Rachel is as flabbergasting as ever, and Reyna isn't the most interesting to talk to since she's so closed up. (Still, I try, and the occasion she does share something is quite interesting. Apparently a Roman punishment is to tie you up in a bag full of weasels and dump you in a river to fend for yourself … seems legit.) In all of its irony, the guy with the drinking problem is simplest to hang out with.

We've managed to establish a few more caches of emergency supplies in New York, even if Aly still carries the bulk of important materials (non-perishable food, emergency clothing, toiletries, tent-making materials, all essential duct tape, godly food). Everyone also now carries at least a day's worth of clothing and simpler day to day things.

Hm … wrapping this up. Being in Manhattan, so close to Olympus itself, is unnerving. Here and anywhere near is horrible for setting up a base. We got settled yesterday in a hotel yesterday, but had to sneak out to avoid some storm spirits. No idea why they were there of all places. Course, it wasn't any simpler to creep unnoticed past huge scores of bestial monsters roaming the streets at 1 AM.

I had hoped it was just me, but Lee caught sight of the bloody Minotaur of all things in Central Park, stalking a few nature spirits. Any fighting in any place attracts too much attention in this monster infested city.

Also, a few other small groups we passed by traded some information. If they're true, there just might be a forge worker that set up shop nearby on Long Island. It's also been said that there's an underground Saturn worshipping cult kidnapping people. Apparently the guy is the basis of the Saturday, and not so bad in Roman mythology. Considering what I know - that his Greek counterpart is Kronos, who was imprisoned by the current ruling gods - that's going to be a lot of trouble.

Well, enough writing. The girls are out of the restroom, so time to get out of the cafe before they realize the money is counterfeit.

I've got to go give my respects to the most wonderful person I've ever known.

* * *

"So why here, ya sod?" Aly's tone was appropriately, if oddly, flat.

The source of her livelihood over the past year looked so somber, wistful emerald eyes gazing over and away towards some dense clouds over the sea.

Earlier, he'd called everyone to pair up and wander the area one last time to get any souvenirs they wanted and meet at the Brooklyn Bridge at 7 o'clock. No one said a word, they could all read each other so well now. Rachel had dragged Lee over to try to sneak into a Broadway theatre to watch Aladdin, and the Roman had trailed after Dakota towards what seemed like a toy store.

But as for their choice … Aly had walked silently behind Percy as he moved through the afternoon crowds of the city, not even bothering to do more than glance at a few monsters that strayed the streets. Step by step, traffic light by traffic light, the crowd parting before them as they headed for the Hudson River.

Pier 63 was indeed an odd place to travel to. The park was pleasant - relatively small but oddly homely all the same. The view off the island city was nice once one discounted the dark and murky polluted Hudson river. Aly just quietly proceeded to pace along the railing, leaving Percy to sit on the railing by himself to look out towards the water. Towards the setting sun, which burned a satisfying orange. He would talk when he was ready.

In the park, a baby satyr ran by, frolicking in the cool grass. A cloud nymph, likely its mother, drifted along behind him, swooping to send a ruffling breeze around.

"Did you know my mother was never buried?" began Percy wryly. "No, no. Of course you wouldn't. How would you have? I didn't tell you."

For the first time since Aly met him, Percy sounded truly like a broken child. Like the broken children they all were. "I don't really remember her too well anymore, actually."

"I remember blue. Lots of blue." A poignant pause, and a seagull squalled. "Candy, sweet foods, she was an excellent cook. She was an orphan. She struggled in life because she was always taking care of a sick relative."

The monologue was cut off again as Aly leapt up to join her friend on the railing, leaning in on his shoulder, even if for only a moment. "But … but I barely remember what she looked like now. I only remember her voice, how she sounded like when she told me about my father. And when she was screaming at me to run."

Percy sighed, before dropping to face into the park, as if he were rising from the approaching night tides. Aly did the opposite, facing out to the fading sunlight as she listened to his persistent words. "I only left a few years ago. How is it that I've forgotten so much about her already?"

"How is it that I remember her getting beat up by the asshole Gabe than anything else?" Aly was sympathetic, really, but she was having difficulty expressing it. Her partner had never been so … transparent before. So fragile. She could only pull up closer to him and clutch his right arm close to her side as Percy continued. "S-she'd thought it was for the best. That it would mask my scent from all the night time horrors of Manhattan."

"She told me that when I was 8 - who I was, and why everything was so strange and difficult for me. She … she had given up a lot - so much for me." The redhead remained silent, a comforting warmth for the green-eyed lad tearing up as he continued to lay out his feelings bare to his companion of a year and change. "Gabe was hitting her, and then when she hit the ground after a slap she stopped moving … and I blacked out. Next thing I had remembered was that I was somewhere, and that my mom was going to be tried for murder."

His fingers flexed, tightening rigidly in her grip. "She wasn't a violent person. I remember going for a knife. She probably … she probably made sure she took the blame."

The mother and child left. It was getting dark, but Percy pressed on.

"Her lawyer did his best, but the jury and judge were both freaking biased. She helped me survive in so many ways. I ran away then, and visited every month, doing my best to just see her again. I was never let in, being a runaway kid with no ID. I don't know how soon after, but a cellmate killed her. I would've raided the prison when I learned about it … it was two years ago? It's been so long … the prison cremated her. The place itself isn't too far from here."

"I'm grateful to her for my life and all, for giving birth to me and saving me. But now I've really forgot about her, moving around everywhere with my life." A tear splashed down on Aly's exposed arm. But only one. "And you're here, now. I have you. And I feel troubled by that. Is it wrong to have moved on so easily? Did I replace her with you or something?"

Aly shifted over once more to directly gaze into Percy's face as he blinked hurriedly. Well, that was something she hadn't learned in the long time they'd been traveling together. She was silent for a minute longer, and Percy began to drift backwards in embarrassment, as if he wanted to be swallowed by the river.

Eventually, she spoke up and asked, "Do you remember when you met me?"

Percy, taken aback, quickly nodded his head. Pursuing, she continued. "And what I said about my name?"

Since Percy was still nodding, she began her counter-monologue. "My name is … my real name is Taia. Could be written T-é-a, but it's T-a-i-a. Probably so the orphanage people could pronounce it how my mum wanted it. And … ah, last name, too. Joyce."

_Taia Joyce_, she saw Percy mouthing, lips crinkling into an exceedingly soft, if pained smile.

"Don't suppose you know what Taia means, Percy?" Feeling the boy's head shake in their now more intimate embrace, she chuckled and murmured, "No, no, of course you wouldn't. Not as if I'd ever told you."

Percy's smile was now more mirthful than ever, dimples forming. His words had been thrown right back in his face. "My name is rooted in the Greek language. It means 'gift of god.' My sweet, sweet, mother, named me her gift from the gods, regardless if she left me to fend for myself."

It was certainly not the usual time of day that most confessions were made. It was not snowing with cherry blossoms, nor were they before a beautiful sunset with which the two could peer off to. It was the wrong season for blossoms, and the sky was too cloudy and polluted for the sunset to truly be gorgeous. But the duo could witness other parents leading around their little children in the park. Not with the utmost joy - they were looked too exhausted - but definitely with a tested and tried love.

"Well, where was I? Family is important, Percy." She grimaced, trying to amend her phrasing. "Well, not so much immortals. But mortal family is. When they care for you."

"But you have to move on eventually. They might've given you a lot, but they can't forever. A mortal I met in the orphanage told me she didn't mind being there very much - she said she'd never remembered her parents to begin with, so she didn't have anything to have been attached to."

"It's getting cold. Let's take the subway back," muttered Percy, coming back over and dropping from the railing. "You're not talking about yourself, are you?"

"No. I'm not." This time, they walked together as they headed for the nearest stairwell into the depths. ""My mum … yes, my mum actually told me. Along with the bit with my name meaning. She came to get me one day, stealing me away from the orphanage to tell me about the gods."

Descent. "She hadn't believed in her own ability to raise me when I was born or even then." The ever present blast of heat that followed the clunking subway train. "She knew that soon I would have to learn of the blasted world, so she told me everything she knew." Doors sliding. "She was clear-sighted in just one eye. Drove her crazy - but she was a musician, so crazy works fine." Bustling movement of an incalculable amount of people. "I don't remember her that well either, Percy." Doors sliding again. "I knew her for moments." The stark restart of forward momentum. "There was just a note, saying she had to go - and I never saw her again after that."

"But I was so lucky, Perce. So lucky." For the moment, there were no seats, so they stood back to back. "Admittedly, I might have went off the hook a little bit just after she left."

The boy snorted. A little off the hook. Right. "But eventually I calmed down. Went back to the orphanage. Stole the money mum had left me before I headed off to who knew where."

Another stop, and the deceleration forced Percy to keep the Daughter of Apollo from falling over. "So, then, you got the pretty red hair from your mum?"

Recovering, Al - no, Taia, quickly pulled them both to an open seat. It was for naught, though, as the majority of subway trotters had left and few to none had got on. Impassively, the ginger leaned back into the yellow and orange seats as Percy slouched next to her. "And the eyes, yes."

"The flute too, then." Percy was acting (rather terribly, she might add) at trying to look smart. Well, at least it was better than moping.

"Mum played one for me the week I had with her. She'd left it, so I spent a lot of my time after that trying to learn flute, and it helped because groups of demigods picked me up to alleviate boredom by listening to me play. Entertainment is more useful than you'd think. Hell, it was hard at first because my breath ran out so quickly."

Percy still wasn't giving up on his mini-act of being smart, and Aly cracked, a giggle leaking through the serious exterior as she finally returned to cursing. "Hot fricken damn, you utter bastard, I'm trying to be touchy-feely here!"

As Percy also began to laugh. Oh, it was refreshing. Cleansing. Oh, it was good to hear his voice so joyous again.

Two more stops. "And here I thought you'd finally stopped cursing."

"Oh, so I can't ever be serious?" she responded, smiling.

"I know you can be. But what should I call you then, my dear ginger? Plan to keep up with being Aly, or is that with everyone else? Or are ya gonna be Taia now?" Percy asked.

"I've been Aly ever since the thing with my mum … my name was too precious to share without good reason. I've come to really like it, Perce." Aly grinned, not viciously or victoriously like Percy was used to dealing with Aly, but a soft, quiet, and introspective smile. "It's a part of me now, no matter how cheesy that sounds."

"Aly? Taia? Alytaia?" Percy stumbled across his word.

"Perhaps, you turd," teased Aly in a cheerful taunt, "Just maybe. And … I actually like that. Alytaia. A-ly-tai-a. Huh … only when it's just us talking, yeah? And only as long as I get some kinda name for you. Like … like …"

As he moved to sit up proper, Percy responded. "Do you really need anymore though? You already have so many names for me, Aly. There's -"

The following list of so-called affectionate terms used by Aly, while beginning mildly, slowly reached into highly offensive terminology that caused heads to turn even amongst the most impolitely verbose New Yorkers.

One more stop. Almost time to get off.

Aly snickered, still laying back upon the warm hued seats. "Yes, those are nice and all, but I want something personal. Something that's just you, if you're going to have me be Alytaia. Like … Emerald? Such pretty eyes, but no. Journal? closer, considering all those infernal writings you keep, you freak. Hm …"

Percy exhaled softly - not like he could fight this anyways, he should know that by now. "Then how about Diary? Log? Notebook?"

Aly's face lit up, beaming as adjusted her satchel so she could now lean onto his shoulder.

"Notebook! Good enough, sounds just about right," she claimed, "You'll be Notebook! And then you could call me Alytaia."

"Hm … well, Alytaia. I love you." Aly tensed. Body language saying 'WTF?!' aside, it did not keep the boy partially beneath her from recklessly rambling on.

"Perhaps it hasn't been the longest time we've known each other, so I hope I didn't freak you out all of a sudden …" the boy trailed off briefly. "But I really think I do. Maybe I got attached too quickly. But from what I understand of love … well, I'll be there for you. Always. I promise. Well … heh, I already did, haven't I?"

He drew his weapon, non-operational but not any less glacial.

"Maybe by enforced choice, I promised," Percy admitted, before again realizing he probably need to better cover up his massive blunder of revealing the pubescent emotions of a young teenager. "I read once that men love with their eyes, and women with their ears. and I guess you're quite wonderfully beautiful and attractive, and … and …"

He tried to push her away to stand, hoping the coming station would help brush away his mortification. But Aly finally relaxed, falling into the rumbling rhythm of the subway. "I wish you hadn't told me that, Notebook. Perce. Percy. Notebook. Shit, that nickname just doesn't work. But first, we only promised never to betray each other, so not quite the same.

"And second, well anyways … I guess you're right, because I never would have said a thing if you didn't say yourself. It's so easy to get bloody attached in this hellish existence … but we're sworn to stay at each other's backs, hm? I love you too." And just like that, she turned her head and plunged in for an awkward kiss.

First the noses collided, before she and Percy re-angled to properly meet and kiss. Light and chaste, but held for more than just a instant. They separated, and both breathed in the odd menagerie of scents of the New York subterranean system before parting more fully.

Still, the subway train clunked on.

"That … didn't feel quite right," whispered Aly, fingers ghosting over her lips.

"No, it didn't, hm?" smiled Percy, just the slightest tinge of sadness returning from before to color his tone. "Never speak of it again, then, Taia?"

"Only if it was your first kiss that I stole, Notebook."

"I do believe that was."

"What kiss are you bloody talking about, retard? Sheesh, Percy, you idiot, did you drink some of Dakota's Kool-Aid? Have you been hallucinating?" Nonetheless, after they both stood, she embraced him tightly, smiling as he returned it.

Tiptoeing to bring their foreheads to meet, she tried her best to convey everything she couldn't say. How secure she felt because of him. How much she trusted him. How thankful she was for everything he'd said and done. Things that she only knew how to express properly as music.

And with no more left to say, the duo slinked out of the subway.

_Anima._ She would … she would name her flute _Anima._

* * *

The waxing crescent moon in the sky was the same as it ever was (excluding light pollution that not only ruined the constellations, but even seemed to dim the moonlight). It hovered in the heavens above, in midnight darkness. The general silence was not concrete, for the endless shuffling of leaves in the forest covered the movements of both terrified prey and eager predators. Crickets also chirped endlessly, and the occasional buzzing of brightly glowing pumpkin orange fireflies interjected into the orchestra every few seconds. The forest was as it always was, mostly undisturbed by the endless traffic and construction of the eternally bustling New York.

Within the boughs of the boughs of an ancient oak, however, crouched the largest prey of all. A girl - one of the more timeless females that looked fourteen or fifteen but could have practically been in her thirties - was daintily perched upon a more static branch, sylphlike in a sub-radiant beauty that was obvious even in the heavy, thick, darkness.

Perhaps it was easier to see the girl's regal facial features due to the light and short silvery-gray hair that was kept back into a messy bun. Or perhaps it was the soft glow that her body gently emitted. It also helped that her clothing was completely silver in nature, helping light up the slight bends and string of the recurve bow upon the girl's back.

A single shaft of silver moonlight fell from a hidden holster within the mercury colored jacket of the girl, and she deftly snatched it, holding the fletching of the now evident arrow as if it was a blade. Meanwhile, the other hand rested lightly on a most curious blade. The handle was small, fit for a more feminine grip, and a small crescent blade adorned the bottom of it. The actual blade, which lay against her silver adorned leg and was cutting slightly into the trunk of the bone-white tree she was hiding within, looked much like a cross between a khopesh - a curved blade used by ancient Egyptian guards, and a sickle - a gardening tool adapted for war as a scythe. In short, it hooked heavily, also appearing much like a crescent, in the opposite direction of the crescent decorating the handle grip.

A wispy wind floated by, parting the leaves so that light could enter the canopy the girl was residing in. The rays shimmered down the blade, following the heavily imbalanced s-shape. Red-tinted metallic eyes peered out of the leaves, watching for danger.

Her pale hand gestured calmly, motioning for a previously impossible to see figure to come forth. Said figure was not lit by any extraordinary means in the shady absence of light, so the tiny girl of at most toddler age was difficult to see as she crawled up the tree branch to the elder girl's backside. The child looked as if she were suffering, at some stage of recovering from malnutrition or starvation. A taut stomach and thin limbs, gaunt cheeks and a pained grimace from the ever present hunger. However, if nothing else, a pair of twinkling eyes shone impishly from beneath the sheaf of unkempt black hair framing her small face.

But the peace of the moment was not to be.

Supernaturally, the moon above … changed, for lack of a better term, within a second's time. It shifted into first quarter, but did not even cease as it continued into waxing gibbous phase - full moon - waning gibbous - third quarter - waning crescent - new moon - and finally once more a waning crescent moon. The flash of unnatural light lit up the entirety of the forest, and a vague whistling could be heard.

The practically albino warrior girl in the tree quickly turned to snatch the child up, ducking a shaft of an arrow that flew and embedded itself within the previously tranquil oak. A hunting horn sounded, to be echoed by horn after horn. The haunting call aroused the wind, chasing the fleeing female and child upon her back. The warrior's slim frame dashed down, hurrying over a small stream to the east. The burst of movement sent up flashes from the odd khop-sickle tied to her waist, and the girl upon her back gripped tighter to the elder girl's neck as they ran desperately from the pack of predators.

* * *

The sorrowful melody of one of Beethoven's most famous pieces, _Moonlight Sonata_, filled the night air by way of a Styxian Steel flute. Perhaps not written for the flute, but Taia, Aly, would use and adapt whatever melody she wished, regardless of whatever instrument it was originally composed for. She'd been playing variations and inspirations of the sonata already, and the notes moved seamlessly from improvisation to the original canon and back again, the rare breaths needed to power the sound spaced into perfect cadences.

The crew of six sat around a stone surrounded cheerfully crackling fire in a clearing, tended to carefully by the ever strange clear-sighted mortal within the group. The bangs of Rachel's pixie haircut drifted forward slightly as she added pieces of dead wood to the fire to keep it smoldering away. Sifting through her backpack, the ginger drew her Imperial Gold machete from a sheath on the side of her calf. She hummed the a complimentary harmony line of the Classical-Romantic Era piece as she casually snipped few loosening threads from her clothing. It was a very strange sight - a teenage girl in an extremely colorful tie-dye shirt and equally multihued jacket, a peasant skirt, sneakers hidden underneath her legs as she organized her things.

But the tall drunkard to her left of the fire was an even more curious sight. Dakota, in his drunken, curly black-haired glory, when not swigging a variety of Tic Tacs from a monster sized canister, dozed on the earth in gym clothing - gray baggy sweatpants, a white undershirt, and a non-zipped darker gray hoodie. A green bag lay by his feet, kicked about in his sleeping throes and some of its contents - rock candy, toothpaste, a cabbage, and even more Tic Tacs - were strewn about the ground by the Son of Bacchus's large feet.

Again to the left sat Reyna, dwarfed in her petite size compared to the giant Dakota. She seemed greatly engrossed in something beyond the flickering whites, yellows, oranges, and reds of the flame that reflected upon her coal black eyes. Her face was mostly covered by the ever present efficient side braided hair and hands covering her mouth in thought. She was leaning forward to better see the flames, resting her elbows on her knees. She was clad in a simple, rich purple, shirt - bought or shoplifted from an Abercrombie and Fitch store, no one will tell - and covered by a black cloak, all presided above a pair of worn navy blue jeans and small tennis shoes covered feet. A black bag was left forgotten behind her, as her eyes were too busy trailing the nimble, agile sparks that flew into the air. And if occasionally those eyes glanced left to regard and contemplate the person there, well that was for another time.

Percy was laid back on a comfortable bed of dried crinkling leaves he'd raked together. His navy blue hoodie sweater hood was up, though his hands were still inserted within the hood to better support his head. He was watching the night sky, after all - eyes perusing each constellation he could pick out, and contemplating a planet he was sure was Venus. Occasionally, he would leave his reverie to sit up, and his green shirt would peeked out from underneath the collar of his jacket. This time, he dusted off his khakis and shuffled around his sneakers to better reach towards the available food by the fire. Mostly just canned food, cooked by the ever so able mortal. the meatballs and tomatoes were quite tasty. Just missing noodles to make spaghetti. At times, the boy would reach into his kangaroo pocket to pull out his journal, and attempt to draw the night sky above him. Each iteration, though, would fail miserable and he'd erase all the constellations. It was difficult to pinpoint anything but the moon accurately in the light-polluted heavens.

Proceeding on was Aly, who seemed content to serenade the crew with her agile moving fingertips dancing across the keys of her instrument weapon. Her long red tresses reached somewhat beyond her shoulderblades, and flitted about in her swaying motions. She wore just a black t-shirt and jeans, not cold in the slightest in the autumn night; an almost vile olive green turtleneck and dark purple hoodie were folded carefully and resting on top of her magical satchel. But for her current getup, she could get away with attending a funeral in said attire if her shoes were not gray converses. Dark brown eyes remained closed as her body leaned to and fro from the flow of the music.

Last of all, conveniently across from his once upon a time captor in an effort to stay as far away as possible, sat Lee. In the most dutiful and responsible manner of the group, the blond was collecting the dinner tins that each ate from, his white polo slightly smudged from travels and staining foods. His favored golden jacket lay within his bag, which he kept pinned between his jeans and tennis shoes in order to keep his blue eyes trained upon it. They'd left even the most extended territory that the his Hunt had ever traversed … he needed to keep it safe.

The more clunky weapons - a pilum, a gladius, and a longbow, were each driven into the ground or propped up to be of easy access to in case of emergency. It formed a convenient equilateral triangle, enclosing the group of six that encircled the merrily snapping fire. Conversation was ignored in exchange for dinner, but it rather seemed that dinner was over. Rachel had picked away at and eaten little of her mango chutney; Dakota had long since devoured his sausages before returning to his diabetic diet of candies; Reyna had finally completed picking at her vegetables and beef; Percy finished inhaling his anti-pasta; Aly had gulped her stew down at the very start to practice her flute; and Lee tossed in the skewers of the last of his hunted rabbit kebob.

Finally, chatter picked up, Lee attempting to talk to Rachel to ask her how she exactly wanted the garbage disposed of in "an environmentally safe fashion." There was some difficulty, though, for she was already sharing a very strange conversation with Dakota, who'd initiated a discussion everyone being Caucasian in their group except for Reyna.

"Lllike, it's it just so straange that only Avilllaa's - like. Um. Where's Reyna froooom anyways?" Dakota drawled out as he gesticulated wildly, fingers carefully covering the opening of his precious Tic-tac supply. In the distance, a wolf howled.

"She's just a Roman," grumbled Lee, still unable to let go of his grudge. "They're all the same. Pluto forsaken barbarians."

"Now, now. Lee, there's no need to be so touchy. Peace. Meditation. Hmmm…" intoned the ever odd Rachel. "And leave the trash bag here, I'll take care of it."

"What? They are basically barbarians now. When's the last time they've done anything as a Republic, with whatever vote in the Senate?"

"No, they haven't. But aaat least theirrr diverse is mooore populaaation!"

For the sake of all of our sanities and political correctness, moving elsewhere.

The girl in question glanced back as Aly started playing Greensleeves, then scooted closer to Percy to address him about whatever that seemed to be occupying her mind. Quietly as to not be overheard, Reyna began speaking.

"Perseus," Reyna whispered, leaving her fire scrutinizing trance and nudging the boy laying on his back, "I wish to speak with you."

_Awoooooo … Awoououououou … _

"Formal as ever," Percy said blearily as he sat up, rubbing his face with his sleeve, "What about? Regret sacrificing your food to the wrong god or something? I gave mine to Hestia." Who else would he sacrifice to? Offering to his father had yet to do anything for him, and Hestia was Goddess of Home and Hearth, so it would be good to get her favor.

"Hestia?" Reyna blinked in surprise. "What's the use of that? Hasn't she faded?"

The boy popped a piece of gum into his mouth. "Well, maybe because of me she hasn't."

Wait … those howls. She'd hadn't been paying attention as she should, distracted as she was … if …

_SCRI-AAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… _

_Irrumabo. _Springing up, she cried out at the group. "Prepare for contact!"

With that bombshell, an albino haired girl popped out of the forest to collapse upon the ground a few feet from the fire, panting as she struggled to stand. A puny child from her back rolled off, and ran to the fire to warm up, barely registering the the group of six. Struggling to catch her breath, the elder arrival turned her head slightly to plead with the group while drawing her oddly shaped weapon.

"Please help us." Her khopesh-sickle swept out, drawing out a crescent line before her. Silver light erupted forth from the line, creating an ethereal boundary.

Rachel extinguished the fire swiftly it with a pre-set mound of dirt, and pulled off her own jacket to cover the small girl. Aly/Taia played on, tune shifting into one of her own creation. The forest around them rustled, and they turned out to face approaching wolves.

Hunters of Artemis melted into the clearing, silver glow matching slim moonlight. The wisping smoke trail of the exterminated fire flew off from the center of the clearing, almost as if being drawn in like a cigarette into the sky's cheshire cat grin.

* * *

Pop. Cocking his head in confusion, Dakota voiced his rather untimely and hypocritical question. Even as he swigged the last (as in the last fifth) of a 200 Tic Tacs box, he spoke around the pieces of candy. "Is nowww really the timmme to be blowwwing bubblegum?"

_Moon. Hunt. Wilderness. Maiden. XVI._

The selection of Huntresses before them evened out. They weren't in any position to the crew at the moment, both individually and as a group. Dakota totaled their numbers to be nine (he wasn't drunk, just hyper - his counting ability wasn't impaired, hopefully), nine girls that were visibly becoming more furious by Percy's seeming nonchalance.

The Huntresses were older than the Greek and Roman groups themselves. They were more dangerous than them, too, to a certain extent.

There were many demigods who'd tried to survive by themselves after the power shift. Camps were gone, and so everyone disbanded. The cruel atmosphere of the world was untenable - many were consumed by bestial monsters, torn apart in the developing monster culture's gladiatorial rings, or even killing each other off. But quickly, everyone realized such a situation was ridiculous. The gods had only toppled the camps, but left Artemis's Hunters alone.

The people that still followed around both civilization's established teachers soon found their place. Greek and Roman took control of the west and east respectively, a travesty of past traditional home locations. They were the largest, retaining about two hundred out of the approximately thousand they used to be. They avoided each other more than ever now, though, even with the Mist unraveled between them.

_Renaissance. Renewal. Revival. Resurgence. Rejuvenation._

The demigod population dropped severely. Half were lost, never to be found again. Those more intelligent, more capable, more experienced, or more fortuitous and were able to survive by banding together themselves. It was difficult. The Greeks would demand tribute from whoever they could reach and threaten. They never destroyed smaller groups that they encountered - they were left as an emergency buffer zone in the case Romans attacked. But the extortion definitely impeded survival and growth. It was one reason why the group of Bellona's children never did take off.

The Romans simply held raids on relatively groups of demigods when they reached a certain population level, usually those numbering fifty some or more, and steamrolled over them. Completely conquered. Death tolls were massive, the only silver lining being that those who survived were no longer traumatized from seeing so mangled corpses. Such destructive combat still happened in present day - demigods were too much like cockroaches.

_Glory. Victory. Triumph. Prestige. Honor._

However, by then the largest threat by far in the U.S. were the Huntresses. They'd been renamed after a (not) surprisingly large number of children of Apollo banded together. Hunters and Huntresses. The Hunters were also up there in threat level, being flat out the largest group. Compared to the Huntresses there was no sexual divide to lose members. Also, Apollo's sheer number of affairs led to their numerical advantage over the Greek and Roman groups, if barely. While not the most skilled, their sheer numbers and consistent teamwork enforced their territory to a frightening degree - their territory happening to be whichever city they wished to inhabit, generally holing up at any metropolis months.

The Huntresses, on the other hand, didn't need any numerical advantage. Even after a sudden influx in membership for a few years after the second world war, the Huntresses rarely lost members at all. Their numbers remained a consistent forty - their members never died from any of the things other groups faced like disease or even just age. They were elite predatorial quasi-immortals who were by far more adapted to the current demigod lifestyle for eons before the great shift occurred.

There was little definite information known about the Huntresses, as they didn't recruit unless a member died (which was rare). Since joining was a life commitment for females; and males above the age of ten that came across their Hunt were left as carcasses in ditches, no one had absolutely concrete details.

_Agreement. Accord. Concurrence._

From survivors, the stories eventually spread.

They had long since divided from a single hunt under the only Earth-roaming goddess into groups of eight. One toon captain leader, one co-captain, and six troops. The entire force only came together every solstice to meet with their leader, who no survivor had ever lived to tell the tale about. Their movement patterns were untraceable, never following the same hunting routes. There was no shortage of lack of desire to trace huntresses who could easily be setting traps for the tracer.

There were 5 sects of Huntresses scampering across the U.S. and constantly picking apart whatever group they met. By the stories, three of their sects had once come together to defeat the Mars children a decade ago. At that time, they'd had some of the largest territory, having dominated the Tornado Alley. However they had attracted the ire of the Huntresses, the next thing everybody knew was that the Children of War were gone. Their territory had shrunk dramatically, and those under that particular god's banner never left Texas for more than a week.

Pop.

_Tactics. Stratagem. Scheme. Plot. Maneuver. XXIV._

Well, Dakota had to admit. Percy, for all the bad timing there was, had finally managed to blow a bubble properly.

The were … Dakota spun quickly, ensuring he counted correctly. Yes, there were nine very angry girls surrounding them, mainly focused on the unknown albino and Percy.

Nine, nine, nine. Holy shit. If there were nine of them now instead of the nightmarish eight, that meant the Huntresses were expanding, or Artemis was here herself.

Then, of course, more silver clad females popped up in the trees all around the clearing, arrows trained on all of the obvious threats - everyone but the little girl. The falcon that had screeched earlier was perched on one of the new opponent's shoulders. Damn, he should have known there were more hidden earlier because of that.

"Well … _irrumabo nunc sumus omnino damnati, _LIKE FREAKING GOD FORSAKEN _**quod ei sanctus f***ing cacas vere nunc!?**_" Even the Huntresses and those who could not speak Latin turned to look at Aly. Apparently the f***ing didn't translate directly into Latin. F*** did. The redhead was scarily angry, reverting to her ancestral language to curse. The ominous mad smile adorning her reddening face was not a pleasant omen either.

_Engage._

Alrighty then. She was going to start it.

* * *

Practically everyone was staring awkwardly at Aly due to her outburst and her tightening grip on her instrument. The exceptions, though, were the extremely frightened little girl in Rachel's arms, and Reyna. The girl was merely too young to completely understand what exactly was happening and was probably exhausted from running for her life. Reyna, on the other hand, was more on the other end of the spectrum.

She was far too agitated to care about whatever Aly had said. She'd wanted to have a meaningful talk that night. Some relaxed, unhurried time to tell Percy about herself.

She'd yet to, after all. Even when she'd fallen apart at the beginning, she'd said nothing about herself. She didn't have any reason to fully trust any of them - it was only because it was the smartest decision for her to be there and most to their advantage to have her.

Every night, everyone else would talk. Rachel would chatter away, always leading the discussion. Managing Dakota, bringing in Lee, pulling out the occasional curse from Aly, and pressing for Percy to command and lead. But she never bothered with her. She would only glance at her once, every time conversation began. It was so infuriating, how blank her green eyes were. How it seemed to see everything yet nothing, looking at her as if she only saw her soul.

So different than Percy's, who every day sat before her. That was really all he did. Only one meal a day, really, just sat there and shared a meal with her. He'd ask some questions, and they'd talk a bit.

The most extraordinary things could be so trivial.

Everyone else had pretty much given their backstories. Percy had wandered amongst groups before hooking up with Aly, who holed down near the Greeks to survive more easily by herself snatching scraps. Rachel, who knew the world was very strange as a mortal, decided to follow the hyper kid who burst into her room and crashed out the window opposite in order to lose some Cyclops. Lee had turned the wrong direction and was snatched up by Reyna before getting exchanged to Percy.

Reyna had yet to say anything about herself, though. She was still bottling up everything inside, and it was so … frustrating. She'd never responded to any of Percy's questions on that subject, but he'd just laugh to himself quietly and talk a little about himself.

While leaving her home country, the ship was destroyed by what she was convinced was the Kraken, so she'd separated from her sister. Then, as she'd washed ashore onto California, she'd immediately been kidnapped. She'd almost raped despite being 10 years old. It was at that moment that one of the Huntress sects had rescued her. Well, just slew the man, who'd had 'acquired' more than a dozen girls, then continued on. It was how she knew their hunting call.

It was more a coincidental save than anything else too, so it hadn't been much of a rescue. Right after, she was found by Greeks and taken to Chiron to get 'pressed' for information. She'd gotten away, and somehow found herself at the Wolf House. Lupa found her there, and she'd begun her campaign. It took a year to ascend far enough to get her torch and helmet brand, even with using the her powers to sway the crowds. Even though she hated using those so much.

There was no one to ever tell things to. No friendly faces, all people who rather weren't interested in your life or wanted information to stab you in the back with. Then she'd been captured, and stewed in silence for weeks honestly being treated far more kindly than ever before as a prisoner of this group than a fully fledged Roman. As an actual member, she'd witnessed and been part of more camaraderie than she ever did in the backstabbing power-hungry Roman camp.

She'd intended to finally wind down tonight, to unload all the debris in her mind with someone she could trust. Percy had shown his compassion, strength, and loyalty. She'd almost forgotten those traits existed. She wanted to be honest with him, not just truthful. And these pieces of crap were interrupting?

Screw that. Violence might not be the answer, but it's still an answer. Time to let loose.

The Huntresses had made a terrible mistake in their approach. Anger had most likely clouding their judgement. The clearing was relatively small, and the people on the ground had approached too close. They were now in the crossfire of the Huntresses in the trees, provided one was able to take advantage of that.

Her first action was an unforgivable sin by Roman standards, or really any military standard. She launched her pilum, letting her main weapon leave her hands. The gold tip flashed before digging a deep wound through the nearest Huntress, who screamed. Still moving, she snatched Dakota's gladius - it was the Roman style weapon she was accustomed to after all, and she knew Dakota would be fine without it.

The nearby Huntresses were now moving back, but Reyna darted in close enough and seized the spear she'd impaled through a Huntress, further jarring said girl. Instead of dodging a quickly snapped arrow from a Huntress on the ground, she pulled over the girl she impaled to bodyblock the arrow and threw the gladius. The projectile sliced apart the bow that shot the arrow, sending the fractured weapon snapping back into the wielder's face, then embedded itself into the wielder.

Her hand snapped back before her, and after a quick glance snatched a knife from the skewered girl she'd first attacked who was now trying to gut her with. Reversing the grip, she jabbed into the silvery jacket the girl wore, which was now gushing with red. Unless the Huntress she was manhandling received godly food immediately, she was going to die.

Still, not even ceasing the flow of her movement, she _pushed_, forcing the incapacitated girl on her spear back and guiding the speartip on the opposite side of the girl into _another_ Huntress's left side. Spinning to the right of the first Huntress, she drew her knife from her belt, and slashed away at the huntress's stomach.

In the span of five seconds, Reyna had picked apart three huntresses. The first Huntress she'd attacked was now certainly going to die, she'd lost too much blood. The one who had sent an arrow at her had both lost her bow and had a sword sticking in her lower intestines. And for the final girl … well, Reyna ducked an arrow that the girls in the trees sent at her, stabbing her knife into the second speared girl's stomach several times. She was in no state to put pressure on those wounds, so she would bleed out as well.

* * *

The archers above had designated targets, so had shot in the first instant that Reyna had charged in, attempting to eliminate all the others before ganging up on the nuisance that eliminated a quarter of a sect. However, it was not to be. Aly, who had never ceased playing, riffed a rapid arpeggio and knocked every currently airborne arrow out of the air. Another immediate riff into a pitched shriek that sent the two nearest grounded Huntresses into the land of Morpheus as the odd magical shockwave that emitted from the girl hit them.

The second volley came

Lee, who had drawn several arrows beforehand, trickshot two at once while hold the bow horizontally. Each managed to deflect one arrow apiece before those ricocheted as well, deflecting all the arrows shot from one side of the clearing. Lee never used any other weapon but his bow and arrows. If you were only ever going to use a bow, you had to master it to a level beyond even the average Huntress.

On the other side, Percy reflexively shifted his Stygian Steel knife and bar, deflecting the arrow shot at his heart into his arm. It had only penetrated through fatty flesh, but it was excruciating all the same. He bit his lip to keep from screaming in pain, and pulled the arrow out from the other side, before grabbing a water bottle. It burst in his hand, and the water quickly coursed to his wound and began repairing it.

Dakota merely blinked and weaved, already out of the path of the arrow shot at him. His wrist flicked forward, sending a stone he'd picked up into an arrow meant for Rachel. Looking back briefly, crazy and what not, took the silver arrow that had gone through the Son of Poseidon from Percy's bloody hand and went after two Huntresses on the ground at his end of the clearing. Rachel simply drew her machete and kept the small toddler close, backing up to meet her redhead counterpart and protect Aly's back.

Percy's eyes refocused, and looked for the albino haired girl that had likely led the Hunt to him and his friends. Turning right, he gasped as the slim girl dashed away into the trees, meeting yet another eight that were coming to flank their side, about two dozen arrows already on their way to to turn them into pincushions. But the girl somehow whipped her odd blade in a wide curve, sending forth another burst of silvery light that instantly deflecting all of them.

She would handle that, then. He turned to the last two of the Huntresses of the ground sect that had been decimated, only to find them gone, along with some other of the downed Huntresses. Hopefully that meant they'd fled.

He had yet to do anything to truly contribute. Dakota had somehow stole another arrow and was fighting as if using dual knives. Having taken down one, the drunkard and Reyna were now double teaming against a rather steampunk looking girl who was using dual hunting knives with gears on the handle. Lee had picked off two huntresses in the trees, if the thumping noises were them falling out of the branches. Aly was now focused solely on keeping the barrages of arrows from striking their team. Rachel was tying up any of the Huntresses who hadn't been slain, leaving the child cowering underneath her coat by the fire. They'd come out on top, despite facing a good dozen or more of the Huntresses.

Better help the unknown female. The other sect of Huntresses were focused completely on her, and the battle looked like a monochrome rave party. Roving orbs of silver blocked arrows as the girl fended off three knife wielders keeping her from reaching the archers. It was an epileptic nightmare, the amount of silver flashing made the entire scene appear in strobe effect.

"Quake!" He cried out. His team immediately echoed the call and widened their stances in preparation for what was to come. Clasping his hands, his weapons welded together and lengthened and adjusted, forming a two and a half foot long steel sword. He implanted almost hilt deep into the ground, and from him emanated sheer devastation. The earth shattered beneath him, and plates of bedrock shifted several inches, knocking everyone in the clearing off kilter or off their feet.

In the forest, where the remaining Huntresses were, the few remaining in the tree tops quickly fell out as they lost footing. The other sect along with the albino were forced to hold on to the nearest tree to stay standing.

Laughing, Percy collapsed on the ground, and his weapon morphed back into a steel baton. Even if it exhausted him every time, he loved doing that. Aly, recuperated from the miniature quake, stumbled over to him before sagging to the ground too.

_SCRI-AAAAAaaaaaaa … _

"They're retreating!" yelled Lee, spinning slowly to analyze the surroundings.

Water welled up, likely from burst pipes, and reenergized Percy, if only briefly. The Son of Poseidon sat up to watch as wolves coasted through, picking up the dead and dying Huntresses. One tried to swipe at him, but a faceful of water pushed it away and deterred any others from attacking.

The corpses dragged away looked almost peaceful. He would have believed they were sleeping, if not for the various incisions and injuries that marred their bodies. The injured moaned piteously - his team had made sure they were in no position to retaliate after taking them down. One of them had scrambled away, despite how cut up their limbs were. The metallic scent of iron intoxicated the air, and Percy felt queasy, if only mildly.

He was used to the blood. But before, so much of it had never been shed because of him. Because of his decisions.

Aly - Taia - Alytaia, he still wasn't sure how to address her in his mind … she was now dozing, and Rachel was tending to the camp, putting everything away in each person's respective packs. Reyna was cleaning her spear with a wad of a fern; it looked so innocuous now that it wasn't doused in blood. Dakota was rubbing his head, and honestly it could have been anything from a hangover to him soothing his forehead after a headbutt attack of all things. Lee remained vigilant, ensuring the last of the Huntresses were gone.

The girl who'd asked for their help was now limping over, towards the bulk of the group. With a shlick, she embedded the tip of her odd khopesh-sickle into the earth, to leave it standing there, resolute. The soft light she gave off illuminated the gristly scene.

Crumbled, uneven earth that sifted as blood dripped off clothing and salted the dirt. The trees were now scarred; arrows sprouted from all places as if some parasitic weed.

The glow, which previously seemed to make the girl more inhuman and ethereal, now emphasized her weary, baggy, eyes, and the slack, bloodstained grip she still kept on her blade handle. Now that they weren't preoccupied, they could more evidently see how torn her silver clothing was. Seeing Rachel tend to the sleeping child, she smiled lightly and whispered two words. "Thank you."

Then her knees buckled, and she fainted dead away, right onto Percy.

If any of the six had an idea of what to do next, it was made irrelevant. The six had next to no time to react to a most odd singing approaching.

"OOOOOH, a ba-da-dum-daaaAA. It's craa-zyyyy, just how it is, but that's just that the facts are this! Um ba-da-dum-daaAA-da-bum-TAAA. All the la-dieessssss-" The source of the music appeared from the only side of the clearing where no battling took place, moonlight glinting off goggles propped on his forehead. The strange boy was also wearing an unbuttoned green camouflage jacket, white undershirt, and heavy duty cargo pants, Fingers played an imaginary instrument on a leather toolbelt around his waist while the boy still hummed to his likely made up music as he arrived.

"Well that!" the unknown boy cried out suddenly, spinning around and pointing to pretty much the entire clearing, "was not what I expected …"

Trailing off, he redid the last lyric of his strange song, which everyone conscious collectively raised an eyebrow at. "Bam! All the ladies, bam! All the ladies, bam! All the ladies, bam! Allll the laaaayyy-dieeeeeieieieieiies! Ba dum tss!"

All those conscious jumped as a bronze winged mechanical dragon that had made no sound up to that point dropped out of the sky behind him, heavy steps thudding into the earth as it blared a rock riff to accompany the last lines, conjoined with spewing fire fifty feet into the air. "LoooOOooOovvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee LEO!"

With a crooked grin, the Latino curtsied and asked, "Is anyone in need of any assistance?"

* * *

Blight. Catastrophy. Downfall. Ruination. Scourge. Bane. Doom. Calamity. Subjugator.

For years they had bided their power, building up their strength. Now …

Soon. The earth reverberated, soil humming to the thrum of a vast bass.

Soon.

The sun was finally going down over the island, turning the sky sanguine red. The bay mouth reflected the sky, only further hueing the world crimson. Mist rose, choking dying pine trees from light, shielding boulders from the sky, and covering half melted snow. Constant waves lapped the shore of black sand. A small ship gouged a line of shadow on the beach. A raven perched upon the boat's stern. It was a greasy nightmare, larger than an eagle, its jagged talons like an obsidian knives, and its beak acrid pruning shears.

Eyes glittering, it croaked softly. "Swear."

Several unkempt trails led from the beach through the woods. Overgrown and dark, each were full of dangers, both natural and magical. Bears - or rather, things much like bears - rustled deep in the humid undergrowth. Glowing white spirits that were only vaguely human drifted through blackened trees, twisting up into the lucid red sky. There was a constant snapping sound and painstaking moans, as if some poor soul had been captured, pulled into the dark, and torn apart.

However, the sounds only grew louder as one drew to the center of the island, where two immense black boulders seemed to radiate their own gravity, forming an entrance. It seemed to breathe, air constantly drawing in and out, in time with a pulse that reverberated through earth, sea and sky. The air smelled of the freshly turned soil of graves; a sweet, drowsy heat that would draw in any who seeked warmth from the outside cold.

The cave further in was larger than even the greatest crypt of all history - the Great Pyramid of Giza. The walls glowed luminescent, mosses of vibrant plant green, dried maroon red, and heavy midnight purple. A cavernous pit ate away at the floor of the cave, the depths darker than the trenches of the sea.

The entirety of the catacomb thrummed with ancient energy, a constant ringing boom, boom, boom that one could never be sure of which was the cause of the origin echoing. One would be deluding themself if they tried to believe it was merely just the waves of the sea battering the island, for the mausoleum was alive. Drowsy as the earth seemed to be, it pulsated with incomprehensible strength.

One would lose their sanity trying to stay in the chamber, for the earth overpowered everything. It mattered not who stayed - human, demigod, or god. Overnight, even a Titan would drown in the eternity of the place, consumed by the perpetual lullaby that the ground itself hummed.

For they did not belong. Not like she did. Her dreams were malicious and fitful, a product so malevolent that even Phobetor, the god of nightmares, would question reality. Shadows roamed the cave walls, ghastly images of war from all eras. She watched the horror in the pit, where jewels sat upon gems that sat upon minerals that sat upon metals. Oil bubbled, a thick soup of molten heat - a tar pit from hell, rising from the fissure of darkness. A spire rose four hundred feet high, just fifty feet shy of the rock ceiling. It was a swirl of rocky tendrils that jutted like a battering ram from the oily morass. Glowed with heat, bronze, silver, and gold, melded. Oil ran instead of blood and raw diamonds beat for its heart. A human skeleton sat almost peacefully upon the crown of the immense giant, old work clothing eaten away by ravaging time.

All the wealth under the earth. The greediest wishes cause the greatest sorrows. A queen's sacrifice for the first to rise. A new homeland of icy mountains and forests. An army waiting for the gods to divide. Armies to destroy all. Civilization to sweep away.

She sat there, knowing she was only waiting for the end of the world. Deep into her soul, her curse called out. There was no Son of Neptune that would wash it away. She was buried too deep in the endless treasure. For that was what she was, wasn't it? Trash amongst treasure, who would ever be looking for her of all things? No fisherman, no Son of the Sea, not even the horse that she greeted so long ago.

The air was searing hot, which oddly preserved her body more than anything else. Even with all the precious shrapnel that was embedded within her body kept her in stasis, alive for what was to come. Not too far away, a red headed harpy sat much the same way the crow did outside. It was gaunt, not having eaten for eons, but there it sat, muttering phrases over and over again.

"He reminded people of humanity."

"The pit will be the first."

"Name, name, name. My name? What was my name?"

"No one learns from history."

"The angels tread with the dead."

"The Mark of Athena burns."

"The entrails have been eaten."

"If there is a winner and a loser, then it is a game."

"Divinity … means little."

"War is coming. War is here."

"The standard calls."

"No side is completely unjustified."

The beast, clearly insane, pawed at her eyes with her talons. Blood poured from small cuts caused by floating rock chips and her own claws. The harpy wailed deliriously.

"Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon."

* * *

**Reyna's Take on the Author Notes**

_First bloody (actual) scene was 2,655 goddamned words. I've rewritten that … three times. Used to be with a character named Amie. Then rewritten for Aly. Then I added more detail in the rewrite, and now I overhauled it and added even more. 4 times I wrote that, trying to pin exactly what I wanted to explain down pat. _

The scenes changed a lot here, hm? Doubled up and altered?

_Yep. Well, someone sane and responsible finally taking the reins. Yes!_

You know, the author is quite the bastard, making me some kind of angsty wimp. Why'd you have me so easily taken out by a club hit of all things?

_Hey! You're saying magical steel hitting your cranium won't knock you out?_

No. I'm saying I would have dodged that and gutted Aly with my pilum. And if not, got even closer, too close for her to use her club properly and gut her with my knife.

_I spoke too soon about sane._

At least this time you kept out all the shit with my name this time around. I'm not Aly, for goodness sake.

_Yeah, I know. Got to represent one of my favorite characters better, you know?_

Fine. But no more crying for me, you hear?

_Yes._

Favorite, follow, review, PM. That good?

_You're supposed to be polite!_

Give me Aurum and Argentium, then I might. Or Scipio, for that matter.

_Um … all in good time? Someone volunteer and be a good beta please! Or maybe not. Updated 6/22/15._

Edited 7/14/15.

_Couldn't you let me have the last word?_

Do I need to gut you?

_Probably. Rehauled 7/17/2016._

**Alternate Title: Romans' Romances**

_Love's Sorrow. Fritz Kreisler. Rachmaninoff's arrangement for piano._


	18. KoK V2 C5 Wayward Son

"_We are only falsehood, duplicity, contradiction; we both conceal and disguise ourselves from ourselves." - Blaise Pascal_

* * *

Diana meditated quietly, contemplating the order of the world.

The winter solstice was soon. Another day to be wasted - her fellow Olympians had achieved nothing in the previous summer or winter solstice meeting. Nor anything in the past 5 decades' worth of meetings. Every six months, she would bring Huntresses to Olympus to dally around for a day. But ever since the aspects of each fellow Olympian had stabilized, all were more complacent than ever.

Father lazed around during the meetings, only ever bothering to start them. Poseidon seemed more tired than ever, and if the stories were right went down to the mortal world more often as of late to sire children. Some Children of the Sea had been coming out of the wetworks recently. Pluto refused to show up to Olympus anymore, claiming he was too busy trying to organize his kingdom of the ever increasing dead.

Juno had taken lead in Zeus's sloth, directing meetings (if only briefly, before allowing the bi-annual revelries to begin). Demeter just constantly bemoaned about agriculture as if it was important - why not just hunt? Hestia hadn't been seen in thirty years, and honestly many were unsure of whether she'd vanished even earlier. There'd honestly been very little fuss, beyond herself bringing up that she wasn't tending the fire as usual. Most everyone concluded she had faded. Shame, considering that she was the only aunt she ever liked.

Dionysus was always obliviously drunk as ever, languishing in his seat; Mars was perpetually distracted by projections of wars and rebellions across the globe. Especially the current conflicts in the Middle East. Hephaestus nowadays sent an automaton in his place, staying in his volcanoes to smith. Aphrodite pestered her every time she could to try and make her update her wardrobe. Hermes and Mercury merely lept in and out, running his messages. Athena kept herself preoccupied, constantly scribbling away at some device, planning or calculating something. Her own brother was less tolerable than ever, going around willy-nilly and using his literally divine looks to seduce vapid women.

That was the only reason that the Hunter group could even match her Huntresses.

Ah, what to do, what to do … when was the last time she'd actually hunted around with her followers? Good amount of years, but not worth it. The last time she had done so, the sect she'd been with had evidently preferred going into the city and noting all the attention they got from males so that they could track and kill them.

Well, she'd get to checking on them when they arrived. Now, where …

* * *

Percy finally spit out his gum in sheer amazement at the display before him.

If streams of practically white hot fire blasted into the air and rock music that was bound to attract monsters (not even going to mention the blood of huntresses beginning to permeate the air), the insane boy apparently named Leo was beginning to shoot fireworks.

Fireworks.

Thinking over it, the Huntress retreat call may not have came just because of them. They did have an essentially fresh squad to attack. Or maybe their recovering of the wounded was a greater priority than killing whoever the girl was?

"Well, considering all of this mess was done by you guys," Leo gestured around the clearing, "I'm not sure I want to fight you guys. Especially with camera footage evidence too."

The boy pulled out a small blue box from his pocket, which projected a holographic image onto the ground. While Percy was looking at it upside down, it was obviously a recording of Reyna dismembering the attackers, from … glancing over, Percy quickly located a knot in a tree which seemed to glint in the moonlight. A second later, a small drone popped out of the notch and flew to Leo.

"Hot and dangerous," the boy continued, winking at Reyna while pocketing the bot, "but still don't think you can face me and George back here."

The dragon stopped its massive display, cutting off its flamethrower to roar and them and crouch, ready to pounce into action.

"Geeeorge? Why George?" Dakota slurred from behind Percy. The eldest among the crew was almost entirely unaffected by the show, having taken it into his drunken stride and was now collecting the leftover materials their attackers had left that were still usable. There wasn't much weaponry, but he was now carrying loads of arrows and a few knives.

Leo winced noticeably.

"Yeah … um, it's a work in progress. Anyway," the boy continued undeterred, closing the image and putting the box back into a pocket, "Since I can in no way ignore the possible needs of a few cute redheads, want some help? Truce and all that?"

Meeting everyone is his group's eyes, Percy turned back to face Leo. "Sure. Gonna stay around here, or … ?"

"Nah, nah. Back to the man cave. Follow me!" Leo turned, not even bothering to watch his back. He did have a several ton dragon doing it for him, and they weren't in much condition to fight. Quickly noticing that nobody was following, he turned back around. "Oh - uhm, when you're ready."

"Perseus," turning, he caught Reyna's spear before it poked him. "Hold this for me, and I'll carry Aly."

"I can wa-" trying to get up, the redhead fell over again. "Or not."

"Lee, can you help Dakota take care of the arrows?" asked Percy.

"Sure. Let me just check if I can find any of my own over there first."

"Alright. Dakota, when you're done, ya mind carrying the silver girl?"

"S'longg as sheee ain't toooo heavy."

"So what do you guys call yourselves?"

"Rachel, all set? Aly seems propped up well … thanks, Reyna. What did you say?"

"You guys got some kind of identification name? Some patron or matron goddess?"

"What are you even talking about?" Everyone else seemed to share similar sentiments.

"Like the Thieves," thought Leo aloud. "And I know people just say Beckendorf when they talk about the Hephaestus group."

"A group name? We don't even have any group specialization, and we never needed one," piped up Lee, back from his reconnaissance.

"All back? All ready? Piggybacked? Back to base, George! Leggo then!" Leo said, sending his dragon taking off. "I'll walk with you guys."

"A mortal, a Roman and a Greek child of Apollo, a Son of Poseidon, a Son of Bacchus, and a Daughter of Bellona," Rachel listed as Dakota swigged … was that beer? Must be Coke. "What kinda name can you think of, Son of the Smith?"

"Not to mention the little girl on her shoulders, and whoever her rescuer is," interjected Reyna, "They owe us a debt, so they might stay with us."

Indeed, the toddler, as young as she was, had gotten very attached to Rachel in the span of the night, sleeping in Rachel's piggyback.

"The Crazies?" suggested Dakota, startling everyone.

"How bout 'Leo and his Ladies?'" said Reyna … no, Leo. Who else?

"Shut up, retard," said (you should really know by now), "Do we even need a name?"

"Should be up to you and Percy," said Rachel, cutting through the few rapid fire suggestions in a most tranquil manner.

"Why us?" asked Percy, trying not to stumble through the unfamiliar forest.

"You two started this," said the whimsical mortal redhead simply, her head cocked to the side curiously. If Percy had to label whatever expression that had come across the girl's face, it would have to be condescension. To the utmost degree.

"Well, then …" dallied Percy as he squirmed under everyone's attention. nearing a rather tall cliff on the opposite side of the forest they were in. No monsters had attacked them en route, likely due to the large mechanical dragon the circled above them in the air, gears creaking and groaning as the wings flapped. "How about … "

"Why do we even need a name for ourselves?" Everyone glanced at Aly, who had spoke up. "It's bloody fricken pointless!"

"Uh … how?" asked Rachel.

"What's the point of a label?" Aly argued angrily. "We'll just become bigger targets with some kinda name!"

Leo shrugged, commenting, "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Ouch, don't punch me! Just watch this!"

The boy smiled maniacally as his hand burst into flames. Everyone around him backed up, but the boy didn't seem to care as he walked up to the cliff face. Lightly, Leo put his full palm on the cliff. The very air smoldered, and a tracery of fire spread from his hands as if oil had been left trailing across the limestone wall. The lines of fire burned into and across the face of rock until they outlined an utterly massive glowing red door, which then swung open silently. The dragon swooped in above them the compound within was revealed.

"Welcome to Bunker 9." Looking back at their gaping faces, Leo smirked. "Tell you what, guys. There's an area with some bunks over here. Rest up, and I'll bring a few others tomorrow to meet. We'll talk then."

* * *

Most everyone had went to bed, having found bunks cut into the rock and setting up sleeping bags. Leo had pointed out where the restroom was being going into a different tunnel which had closed off behind him so they couldn't follow. At least there was no way to close off their little alcove. But Rachel wandered, exploring the vast hangar. 'Name Pending' had hunkered down and shut himself down, so she had the area to herself. She was content to page through blueprints of ages past and picking through piles of machinery. At least until she heard a slight disturbance from the resting area.

Returning, the redhead found the unknown huntress waking up.

The girl had completely lost her silver glow, though Rachel was unsure as to when the light had faded. Her hair did seem to be genuinely white to the roots, and her fluttering eyes did show her irises to in fact be red. Definitely odd genes - never had the clear-sighted mortal seen those physical traits on a demigod.

Her not obviously muscled but still strong body was as slim and lean as she had previously seen, but woundless. Looked like the bit of godly food they'd forced the girl to ingest earlier had some effect. It looked strange - pale skin accented dozens of tears in her completely silver clothing ensemble. Even the moccasins were silver. Looks like it hadn't been the glow that affected her clothing color. Shame. No fashion sense at all.

Rachel leaned down to look at the shoes better, but froze as an arrow tip found its way under her chin. Listening carefully, she heard the metal of the girl's odd sword rasping against the stone of the cave. Finally looking, Rachel tried to deduce where the arrow had come from. The girl hadn't had a quiver despite carrying a powerful recurve bow, so they'd assumed she'd ran out of ammunition. "My apologies."

The arrow retracted away from her throat. "No, my apologies. I had forgotten the Hunt had ceased chasing their prey."

Spasming, the girl dropped the arrow. Her quick action seemed to have overstretched some sore muscle that the huntress had in her upper body. She fell back to the sleeping bag she'd been set upon and whimpered slightly, likely because of the feeling of her muscles screaming in pain at her. Unfrazzled, Rachel knelt beside her and pulled out a flask.

"Nectar?" Receiving a sharp look, then a nod, the redhead propped up the girl's head to help her consume the drink. Soon enough, the girl relaxed. "You must have been running for your muscles to seize up like _that_ just from some rest."

"I have been. Now, if I may know one of the names of my saviors?"

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Yours is?"

The resting girl before her chose her following words carefully. "My name … my name is Anna di Notte. Where is Julia?"

Rachel smiled and replied, "So that's her name? She's in the bunk behind you. I think she likes Oreo and Perry."

Edging out to peer behind her, Anna spotted Julia cuddling a stuffed panda and platypus.

"When are you from?"

"I am a product of the Roman era," the girl said groggily.

"Who's your favorite Harry Potter character?"

Tilting her head, now in confusion, Anna answered, "Remus Lupin. Are you mortal?"

A wider smile this time, and the rally was, "Yes. Would you like a bandage for that cut?"

"What wound?" the girl asked, moving her hands to prop herself up. In doing so, she accidentally placed her hand on top of the arrowhead of the arrow she'd dropped earlier, and yelped as it cut slightly into her right hand.

Rachel watched as Anna looked down in surprise, and the small laceration oozed out a drop of blood. Rachel was far more interested in the wound that what would be strictly considered mentally healthy. "That one."

"Um … yes. Why are you watching so closely? Is it silver?" asked Anna nervously, clucking her tongue.

"Oh, not silver. Looks perfectly normal. Why'd you leave the Huntresses?" No, the object Rachel was toying with in her hand was silver.

"That's a long story." The albino was looking at the thing curiously. Too soon.

"Tomorrow, with everyone else. Decide on whether you want to stay with us. But for now, you should sleep," With that, Rachel tucked away the silver item and left Anna to ponder.

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up!"

A small boy ran through their cavern before dashing back out, leaving only a puff of dust and a mass of confusion behind him.

Then he poked his head back around a corner. "And don't go outside!"

And then he was gone again.

Percy groaned, and wrenched himself to the side. Freed from Aly's - Taia's - Alytaia's - good lord, trying to address her now was just weird. Though Alytaia has a nice lyrical movement to it. Freed from Taia's grip, he fell from the nook in the wall and onto the floor. "Styx!"

Mumbling, the redhead merely drew the sleeping bag they'd been on closer to herself, before turning to face the wall. Well, she probably wasn't gonna be ready any time soon. Dakota, on the other hand, snapped up from his bunk, ramrod straight. The boy's hand flashed to his legs, patting various pockets before pulling out and downing a good number of icebreakers. Lee was already up and practicing stringing and unstringing his bow. Reyna was doing her usual series of morning stretches, and Rachel was …

Where was Rachel?

Another small child popped out of the wall behind him and dashed off after the boy.

Oh, yes. The girls they had saved. Yawning, Percy got up and turned around, smoothing out his wrinkled clothing. The albino girl was simply laying on top of the sheets they had laid out, staring at the ceiling. "Need any help with anything?"

The girl's eyes pinpointed on his with unnerving accuracy, and her face soured.

"I guess you don't."

Rachel popped out from the same nook the toddler had burst from. "Oh, pooey, Anna. Play nice with him."

The newcomer's face softened, if only minutely. "My apologies. Reflex."

* * *

Lee trotted out in the center of the pack. They'd grabbed all their things, as few as they were, then headed towards a clamor of noise not too far away.

He carefully picked out the details of the surroundings. A reactor in the corner. Several passageways, some completely blocked, some with safety cones placed in front of them. Catwalks above, with reinforced pipes crossing about. A fairly large open space, where scrapes on the floor were plentiful. Nearer the back, the series of partitions of which some were restrooms, but another a dining area judging by the smell of food wafting out.

"Hey guys! Sorry, don't have enough food for you guys. Gotta restock food next stop," cried Leo from behind a cooking counter. "I'm done cooking, though, so if you have stuff, feel free to use the stove!"

The Son of Hephaestus pulled off a set of bacons and eggs and placed them at a small table, where four others sat. "And also, don't have any other tables so only got room for a few of you guys. Sorry about that."

There was a pretty girl with long black hair, blue eyes regarding them contemptuously. A bony black boy who was dressed spartan. And two munchkins, gorging away at the food without even the slightest hint of manners.

"Introductions! This is Silena, that's Bobby, and the boy here is my half-brother Harley. And a believe this midget is yours?"

"Leo!" warned Silena sharply.

"Fine, this child?"

Rachel merely motioned for Aly's bag and took it, heading to the kitchenette.

"Alrighty then. I'm Lee," began the archer, before pointing out everyone else as they sank down to sit along the partition. "That's Rachel cooking. Dakota. Aly. Percy. Reyna. And, uh…"

"The old lady is Anna, and the midget is Julia," spoke up Rachel, not even glancing up from the cereal boxes she was pulling out. "Have any milk?"

"Mini-fridge is by your feet to the right," stated Bobby, simply matter-of-fact over Leo's question of 'why can she call them midgets and I can't?'

"Shut up, Leo. Now, why are you guys here?" said Silena harshly.

"Leo just invited us in for a night," shrugged Percy, "Ask him."

The Son of the Sea gently nudged Aly, ensuring she was awake before handing her a bowl of cereal. Lee accepted his own, digging in and watching the show.

"Why the hell did you bring them here?"

"Why not? You're the one that's always talking about recruiting more people!"

"How do you know they weren't just going to attack us?"

"We decided on a truce! Anyways, it's not like anyone can track us anyways!"

"Without your dragon, they outnumber us!"

"Well, George is here, so there should be no problems!"

This was going to take a while.

"You guys can deal with negotiations," Lee muttered, done with breakfast. He stood up and left, and the argument behind him continued without even registering his disappearance.

"Don't go outside if you don't want to get left behind!" called out Bobby.

* * *

Things calmed down. Bobby eventually left to monitor the two rambunctious children. Dakota also trickled away, leaving the rest to sit on the around the table.

"So who are you people?" asked Silena pointedly, "And what do you bring to the table?"

Those were the eyes of a snake, Reyna decided. But the pretty girl didn't seem to be as dangerous as a few of their own resident vipers.

"Don't have a collective name," drawled Aly, "But we are hella damn skilled."

"You can say that again," said Leo, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Shut up, Leo. Specifics?" interrogated Silena.

"Just let me show you the recording, Princess." The boy pulled out the same device from yesterday night, and Reyna witnessed her own attack from a different point of view. Several points of view, actually.

Hm. Right … right there, a misstep. If she'd angled herself better, she could've downed that Huntress five seconds earlier. Then she probably could've gotten the one over there … hopefully she could see that later. For now the priority was to analyze the unfamiliar.

Silena's mouth was steadily gaping out more and more, and her hand had fallen to her thigh. She had a weapon, probably a knife. Reyna drew her own, just in case - more subtly.

Leo was unrolling a line of solder from a pouch of his belt, and a pinprick of a flame atop one of his fingers was manipulating the soft metal to weld something together. He wasn't interested in the footage, but that was likely because he'd watched it while tracking them down. He didn't seem concerned that he'd invited in some very dangerous people, though. But he had a permanent weapon literally at his very fingertips constantly ready to use. Did it have a limit?

And the new girl - Anna, was it? - Reyna couldn't read her at all. No emotions. No movements but a slight narrowing of the eyes to focus on the footage. She had her bow, but did take off the string from it, so the bow wasn't magically resistant to sustained stress. No evidence of wherever she stored her arrows, though … curious.

The sword was still at her hip. From what she caught in the peripherals of her vision yesterday, Anna could cast some sort of silver sorcery from that blade. Did she have the blade only because of its powers, then, or was that natural? No other Huntress had done so, so rather the girl was a partial sorceress or the blade had magical properties. Only the latter would explain the clunky shape, although it might also be Anna's preference.

The recording finished. Leo pocketed the device.

"You guys took down how much of the Huntresses?!" Silena essentially screamed, jumping back from the table and brandishing her knife before her.

"Calm down, idiot, unless you want to be the one to break the truce," spat Aly.

"Wait wait. Who're the Huntresses?"

The table collectively looked at Leo.

"Are you retarded?" asked Aly incredulously. Reyna thought the same.

"Hey, I don't go out much!" Leo defended himself.

"Anyway, Silena? No point to that. We're not going to attack unless you start something, so don't," tossed out Rachel airily as she stacked up used bowls. "Percy?"

The boy next to her rolled her eyes and pushed out from the table. Stumbling over to the sink in the kitchen, he turned on the faucet before gesturing at the water. The liquid picked up the bowls and ran over them, cleansing the dishware before going down the drain.

At seeing Percy's casual use of his powers, Silena seemed to panic more. Perhaps the film hadn't identified him as the origin of the earthquake?

"Well, Silena looks like she's going to hyperventilate, so let me just pull her out to calm her down," snarked Leo. "To finish up - let's just work together, shall we? You guys could use a base, we could use more manpower."

"Seems good," commented Percy, returning to the table and extending his hand to Leo.

Leo stood up and spat in his hand before offering it. Percy merely raised his eyebrows before spitting in his own and shaking.

"Well, I'm going to pull her away now. For you, luv." The Son of Hephaestus dropped the metal bit he'd worked with in front of Reyna. A flower., with the slightest bit of saliva dripping off of it. She brought up her knife to eye level, and Leo hurriedly dragged Silena away without comment.

Percy wiped his hand on a napkin as he sat back down. "That leaves you, Anna … ?"

"Anna di Notte," the girl said, still impassive.

"Et irrumabo quis es?"

Reyna glanced at Aly. Vulgar, maybe, but the same question was again on her mind.

The girl in question responded to the coarse language. "I am a Huntress."

They waited for her to continue, but all they heard was two young children screaming in the not too far distance.

"My ass," Aly said, "No way you're still one after last night."

"And?" prompted Rachel, "We deserve more information than just that."

"You trust this boy?" asked the albino, not even having the decency to look at Percy.

Reyna winced in his place. Aly laughed humorlessly. Rachel leaned in to scrutinize Anna's eyes, before simply getting up and leaving.

"Look at me in the eyes, and call me a boy," said Percy drily.

Anna turned to him, ready to speak and berate Percy - but then their eyes met. And for the first time that day, Anna faltered.

What she saw was green eyes that were on the verge of swallowing the world with their intensity. Venomous, earth shattering, and … disapproving.

Even the gods didn't have that sort of resolve anymore.

"Call any of us children. If you can. I dare you," scoffed the Son of the Sea, before kicking back his seat and leaving.

Aly just laughed again, this time with mirth, calling out an obscenity before following her companion out.

It was now just Reyna and Anna.

A toy centaur, oblivious to the tension that had just built up, ran through. Launching small bronze arrows, each pinned down flies before it charged on. Two children then blasted by, still screaming and laughing.

"I suppose, as a … quasi-immortal, di Notte," drawled Reyna, "among others, you must have forgotten how mortals truly are."

She left quietly, unlike the others that had stormed away. At the entrance, she stopped. "If you're staying, get ready to cough up whatever you're hiding. Also, insult any of my allies, male or not? I will sacrifice your entrails to Artemis so she knows someone's already killed you for her."

* * *

Anna, truly on her own now, snickered inaudibly. Oh, the irony.

"Ever built a snowman?"

She stopped. "Why are you back?"

"The same reason you are still here."

"And why would you presume to know my reasoning?" retorted Anna.

"What makes you think I'm referring to your reasons?"

Oh, Father above this ginger was annoying. "Please stop distracting me. I have other things to consider right now."

"Really? Were you not planning on going out?"

"It would be a lot more pleasant since you wouldn't be there."

"But you aren't even certain of what's out there."

Ah … yes, that was the crux of it. Millennia of settling into a routine, and now things were spiraling out of control. "And what would you know?"

"I am certain, that by your very nature, you aren't prepared for whatever's changed." Her finger twitched. Skata, that was enough of a giveaway. "Are you going to leave Julia?"

Skata.

"Are you going to abandon Julia like you did with the rest of the Huntresses? You can hardly take her away. Things didn't seem to be going so well before you got our help, and it's unlikely you'll find help next time."

Skata, skata, skata.

"Yep, you're staying," said Rachel, sliding back into a seat, "So have you built a snowman?"

Anna facepalmed.

"Nah, too feminist. A snowwoman?"

Anna smashed her head into the table.

* * *

"Sooooo … whyyy can't wee goooo out?" asked Dakota.

"Look at that display," directed Bobby simply. He gestured to his left at the wall by the exit, still keeping an eye on the rambunctious children (who were now at a welding station).

"Annnnd that is?" asked Dakota again, taking a closer look. There was a green tracery of a U.S. map, and dots of light emitted from maybe a dozen places across the board.

"A map. What else do you think it is?" snarked Bobby, heading over to Harley and Julia to quickly pull them back right before whatever object they were playing with detonated.

Dakota ignored the noises, regarding the map closer. There was a dot by Long Island that was glowing brighter than every other dot. Four readings, equally spaced out below the map. One was the time - 8:27, handy. The next was some kind of celestial object display, showing when it would be day or night. The one after read **CAMP HALF-BLOOD**, whatever that was supposed to mean. And finally, the last one simply said **AWAITING.**

"Theeen what does thhee under stuffs meean?" Even as he watched, the last display suddenly flickered, and the word **ARRIVED** replaced it. "Whyy did it just change?"

"Oh. It's an early one today. You're fine for going outside now. Ask someone else for the details, I've got to get groceries." Bobby stated, jumping onto a motorbike. Clicking on a garage opener at the handles, the door swept open, upwards instead of sideways like the previous night. The engine roared, and the boy flew out of the bunker.

Dakota glanced out after him even as the two youngsters cheered and applauded at the loud noise. That … was not the forest they'd come in from yesterday night. At Long Island, the tree leaves had been a riot of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns. The forest before him was essentially evergreen, even if there was a bit of color here and there.

Stepping out, he looked left. A massive face. Was that … Abraham Lincoln? He turned the other way. Theodore Roosevelt?

At the forgotten display behind him, the prick of light shining from New York had faded slightly; while another at South Dakota increased in intensity. the second to last display flickered like the other next to it, changing to read **MOUNT RUSHMORE**.

* * *

There he was. "Leo?"

"Yes, Gorgeous?"

Reyna closed in on him and grabbed his lapel, disregarding the danger that the dragon he was tinkering on presented. "Stop with that."

"Whoa! Ok, ok!" She let go. "I like it. Handsy."

"Ok, that's it." This time, Reyna pushed him up against the dragon's leg, forearm pressed against his throat.

"Oi, George, help me here!" The dragon flexed his neck to turn and look, before snorting and blasting smoke at Leo's face. Its eyes fluttered rapidly. "C'mon, take my side!"

The Daughter of Bellona's mind raced. Communication between the boy and the dragon, only clear avenue by blinking … she took more careful note of the automaton's eyes as they flurried again. Bit dodgy, but … yes. "Thanks, dragon."

"What? You understand him?" asked Leo incredulously.

"Morse code is so basic. Now, you're going to make something for me, Son of Hephaestus."

"Why? You're threatening me!"

The leg Leo was propped on unveiled a dozen forms of weaponry and aimed each one at the boy's face. "OK, OK, I GET THE POINT!"

* * *

Dakota went back inside. Not worth devoting any more thought to that.

_Citadel._

Julia and Harley ran up to him.

"Do you have candy?" asked Julia sweetly, a few missing teeth only making her smile cuter.

The bit of ambrosia they'd given her this morning had done wonders to make her look healthier than before.

"Yeah! Yeah! Give us candy!" yelled Harley in tandem.

_Remnant._

"Alright, little onesss! Tell me, ever try Tic tacs?"

"Nope!" "GIMME!"

"Whhat! Really? Here, havee some!" Digging deep into a pocket, he drew out a canister and poured some into his hand. He lowered his hand and-

"No!" Silena pulled away the two toddlers. "Don't spoil them!"

The two toddlers started tearing up. "But. But."

"Heeere, here. A bit." Dakota pushed aside and gave them both some Silena before she could react. "But whoever told you I have candy has more."

"YAY! CANDY!" the children screamed, tearing off to someplace else.

"Wha-what?" blubbered Silena. She ripped the box away from his hand. "Give me that!"

"Fine, have the rest. I got more," said Dakota nonchalantly, before turning around to amble over towards the restroom.

Dumbfounded, Silena stared after him. Then looked down at the Tic Tacs. Then looked around herself quickly, head snapping back and forth. Well … she hadn't had any Halloween candy, so …

The lid popped open.

* * *

"Headin' back to the fricken Hunters yet, Fletch?

"You know, I don't think I will anymore."

"What? Why?" Taia stopped rubbing her thumb over the edge of the knife she was holding behind her back.

"They probably think I'm dead. Might as well stay here," shrugged Lee casually, even as he dug through the armory he'd found for quivers. "More intimate here. Only was friends with a few Hunters anyways."

"Oh." Taia sheathed the knife. "I suppose you aren't half bad then."

"Really, Aly? I know a few musical tricks, but you can't hit an arrow on the backside of an elephant if it sat on you," teased Lee.

"Well I'm a better healer than you!" retaliated Taia, pulling out her knife again.

"Says who?"

"You know what? FIGHT ME, BRUH!"

"Hey! What - stop! OW!"

"Let's see just how damn well I can heal you after I pound you to bits!"

"CAAAANDY!" Two toddlers ran in and threw themselves at Lee, even as the two Children of Apollo wrestled.

The dogpile ensued for the greater part of an hour.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 54 (Excerpt)

…

Harley and Julia are oddly fun to have around. It helps a lot that we don't have to teach them anything basic like potty training. And that we don't have to constantly manage them because we take turns doing so.

Silena does manage them more often than everyone else, though. She's not so bad now, since she's gotten used to us. Feel as if she's a bit on the anxious bordering on paranoid side, but that's probably a benefit.

She's from the South, joined up with Leo after her babysitting job taking care of Harley went wrong. Not much of a fighter, though charming.

Bit odd, too, seeing her drag Dakota around. Not sure why, don't really want to know.

…

* * *

A great wolf seven feet tall with red velvet fur prowled, silver eyes gleaming in the unlighted house. Lightly growling, blood dripped from a chewed off arm in her mouth. She crunched away, and swallowed the limb. The wolf ignored her pack behind her, even as they continued to devour what was once a living girl. A leftover snack. Demigods didn't survive failing her standards of strength.

She had traveled far, far from modern Roman territory to go to the Wolf House. It was only a relic of the past, now, only useful once a decade in recruitment. Now, it was a place for consulting the Lares. None were capable of remaining with the wandering Romans of the new demigod age. They were largely immobile - they were household spirits, after all. And they were now all gathered in the only building left from the previous status quo, crammed to the extreme and wandering the ruins that resembled what once was.

But it had been a mistake to come. She'd wanted confirmation. She'd achieved it. This time, she had more knowledge than before. And this time, this time, she had planned for no mistakes. But she'd already made one.

She did not fight in the front lines, but right now she was scouting deep in enemy territory. West coast. Greek lands, a sacrilegious contradiction of history long ago.

From the woods, a centaur cantered forth, bow prepared to fire.

"Lupa." Chiron, the famous teacher of warriors from Hercules to Asclepius to Achilles to Jason to Theseus to Ajax. "Why are you here?"

_Have you not read the signs?_ Lupa's features seemed to read, _Or have you missed them?_

"The gods have said nothing. But … the monsters are stirring, yes. I fear the lives of the demigods I teach will be wasted," muttered the centaur, even he pranced lightly around his Roman counterpart. "But that does not explain why you are here. You are not this arrogant to presume that there would be no reparations."

_Surely you cannot lead me to believe that you care so much about demigods as you once did. Even after a student tried to sacrifice you in exchange for a Titan, no less_, the wolf smirked, its bloody grin full of sharp teeth. _And what punishment can you dole, all by your lonesome? You are not mobilized for war._

The centaur grunted, stroking his beard. "But war will come. The balance of power has already tipped."

Lupa looked at him quizzically. _What do you speak of?_

"Seems as if your information web has failed you," taunted Chiron, "But I require, to some modicum, a trade."

The two began to circle each other.

_I have no prisoners you would believe worth your while,_ growled the she-wolf, _so we shall deal in information. _

"Something new, if you would, my dear?"

_The Thieves are moving north._

"That began last week."

_The Athenians are moving to intercept._

"Simple inference, with the proper background knowledge."

_The Graces have disappeared off the grid._

"Oh? Interesting."

Movement stilled. Lupa began prowling the other way, forcing Chiron to also.

_Fair trade?_

"Perhaps one more tidbit."

_Give me something first._

"Your Western borders are soon to fall."

Important stuff, then. Chiron was honorable, so it was bound to be valuable information. Worth giving a bit more for. _The Children of Poseidon have resurfaced._

"Where?"

_Mideast and Northeast._

"Two places?"

_One is led by the girl who was involved in Katrina. The other is the boy who has been running rampage from West to East this past year._ Her snout curled, as if she were laughing. She'd heard that the latter had slipped through Chiron's fingers.

"Fair enough," replied Chiron, gritting his teeth, "To honor our deal. The Huntresses have been culled. The balance has shifted, and many others are mobilizing."

_What happened?_ asked Lupa, _How?_

"Around thirty percent of their forces were killed, twenty percent were badly injured sometime last week," recited Chiron, "Near Manhattan."

That would explain how he knew of it first. Evidently, by their meet here, their true homes were never far out of their grasp. The Huntresses would be on the warpath when they recovered, but for now things would spiral out of hand. _What are the Hunters doing?_

"Unknown. But the Ranch is on the move."

_And if them, then so shall others,_ the wolf seemed to mutter as it slinked off, her pack following along. _Thank you._

"To … _even_ the odds of the games," Chiron said simply, "No fun if it isn't."

_Playing fair. How sporting._

The Lares in the Wolf House behind them glowed brightly, before dispersing altogether. The teachers quickly departed.

The silhouetted figure crouched in a window on the upper floor faded away as the lights faded, before flickering momentarily due to a blue light. But as that light was consumed by the darkness, all that was left was a glowing blue triangle.

* * *

"ANNA!"

"'Lo, little one." The albino smiled, picking up the girl she'd sacrificed so much for recently. "How did you sleep?"

"Better!" cried the toddler impishly. "Call me by name!"

"Ah, stop pouting then, Jul. Want to go outside and hunt?"

"Yup!"

Anna double checked the display.

10:53. Plenty of daylight left. **YOSEMITE VALLEY. ARRIVED.**

Somehow the Bunker was able to _move_. She didn't understand the magic behind it. The logistics, however, was clear enough.

At any point during the day, when the sun was in the sky, the Bunker transported to another location. Once per day, every day, and no rhyme or reason where to. It was too risky

The amount of locations weren't fixed. Yosemite Valley hadn't been a location before today, but now it was. Over the past two weeks, they'd been at Camp Half-Blood for about half the time, for one reason or the other.

An interesting effect she'd never seen before, though admittedly she'd never been one for magics and trickery.

Well, time to track down some deer.

* * *

"Give me a damn drink."

Taia pushed Dakota, but failed to move the lazy lump from his seat at the bar of the kitchenette. After several more attempts, the large boy rose drowsily. "Hm?"

"Give me something good to drink."

The Son of Bacchus looked at her blearily, before turning his head to the fridge literally five feet away, then back at her. "Whyyy d'ya need me to do it?"

"Just get me a fricken drick, prick!" cursed Taia, finally pushing him off the seat.

Shrugging, the boy ambled over to pull out a bottle of … something. He walked back to find Taia slumped in his seat. The only seat there at the counter.

Ah well. Pulling out two cups from a cabinet, he proceeded to pour a healthy amount of dark red liquid into both before offering one to the obviously troubled girl. "Here."

He downed his and poured himself another before Taia even recognized she had a drink in her hand. She grabbed for it blindly before tilting her head back to drink some.

Eyes dilated, she coughed as she caught some of the bitter liquid in her throat. "What the hell is this swill?"

"The good stuff," Dakota said as he downed another shot.

Eyes watering, Taia sipped a little bit more. Well, it had been a good shock to her system.

"Sooo what'ssss up?"

"What makes you think there's something up, bastard?" cursed Taia, swirling the contents of her cup by jostling it around.

"To navigate a party properly, you need to know how to read people." Suddenly, Dakota's voice seemed much more clear. Whether it was because she was getting intoxicated or he had sobered up, she couldn't tell. "I've been to a few too many myself. So I've had enough experience to know when someone is lying."

"Who said anything about lying?" muttered Taia snidely.

"Hiding the truth, then," revised Dakota, "There are veneers that alcohol reveals to you, your own or others. I might not know what's behind them, but I know they're there."

"And you," he gestured at her bodily self, "are an enigma within an enigma."

"I am certain much of what I know of you is not true." He slipped the bottle back inside the fridge and placed his cup in the sink.

"Down to the names," Then he stumbled, out leaving her to nurse her drink alone.

* * *

"So how'd you get here?" asked Harley, unscrewing and rearranging machinery. "My babysitter brought me here when home blew up."

Julia sat quietly on the floor, next to Harley's feet, staring down at her feet. The young boy had his own small desk to work on his own constructions, so she was left to her own devices. "Mama didn't love me, so she said bye-bye."

Harley stopped working.

"And Papa's love hurt too much," finished Julia.

He slunk down to the ground and leaned back on the table with her. When his hand found his way into hers, she did nothing to push him away. So he squeezed it and held it tight.

She squeezed back.

* * *

"So … how's it goin, Ginger?"

Rachel didn't even bother looking up from the microscope she was using. It was supposed to be for magnifying circuits to better repair them, but she was busy using it for something else. "Well, Torch, you're going to have to find a better nickname. There are two gingers."

"How about Hot Stuff?" tried Leo, leaning back onto the table. "What's that you're looking at? Looks cool. That silver?"

"Hot Stuff? Classy, Leo, classy." Rachel pulled away and removed the object from under the microscope, slipping it into her sleeve. "Yes, it is silver."

Before he could speak, she interrupted him. "No, you may not look at it. Now, I need to prepare dinner, so unless you want to join me?"

"Sure. Could always learn other ways to cook."

They crossed the bunker without talk. It was a bit too difficult to hold a conversation anyway, considering the noise around them. Yesterday they'd arrived at Niagara Falls near the end of the day. It had also yet to move for the current day too, and there was only an hour before sunset.

The result was a variant of cabin fever. Silena and Reyna were arguing loudly about the usefulness/uselessness of makeup, the two younglings were running about, Percy and Bobby were in a heated spar, Aly was noodling away at her flute, Dakota was snoring very loudly, and even the yet to be named dragon was groaning and creaking away.

"So what are we making?" asked Leo, looking around the kitchen. He'd spent a few days expanding it since there was more people now, along with adding more tables to eat at.

"I'm planning on making a salad, since it's healthiest," Rachel answered, taking out a number of greens and components.

"Really? Just a salad?"

"We also ran out of meat after someone said they accidentally burned all the venison we had left yesterday."

"Um … oops?" Leo smiled sheepishly, ears burning. "Back to nicknames, then. How about … uh … Emeralds?"

"Yes, Percy's eyes are really quite beautiful. He's over there, want me to call him over so you can flirt with him? If you going to choke on your spit, could you please not contaminate the food while doing so? Shoo, shoo, go away now."

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 55

(Excerpt)

…

Bobby's pretty solid, now that I've actually gotten to know him.

He's not the most inspired guy. No, no, that's not the right way to say it. He doesn't have initiative is better. He'll do things if he's instructed to do them. Otherwise, he simply just doesn't care.

Like, he has hobbies, I guess? Talks a lot about the potential of using trained creatures in battle. He's mentioned all sorts of things, even an elephant (although I don't quite understand how he expects to find an elephant to tame anywhere).

Reyna calls him "the perfect Roman soldier." I don't think she likes talking with Bobby, but then again Bobby doesn't start any conversations unless he really needs to.

On that tangent, I still need to talk to her about whatever she wanted to talk about on the night of the Huntress attack. We've been too busy trying to adjust to Bunker 9 to have a proper conversation.

…

* * *

"MAKE ME TOYS!"

"YOU MAKE ME TOYS!"

"STOP BEING A LITTLE GIRL!"

"YOU STOP BEING A LITTLE GIRL!"

"I AM A LITTLE GIRL, STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"I - ew! YOU STOP YELLING AT ME!"

"THEN MAKE. ME. A. TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU MAKE YOUR OWN TOYS?"

"BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW!"

"WHY DON'T YOU ASK HARLEY TO MAKE ONE FOR YOU?"

"BECAUSE HE WON'T!"

"WHY DON'T YOU LEARN HOW?"

"BECAUSE NO ONE LETS ME TOUCH STUFF!"

"WHY DON'T-"

"GIVE! ME! A! TOY!"

"FINE! HERE! A LOW POWERED LASER!"

"Thank you!"

Julia scampered off, now armed and dangerous.

* * *

Lee eyed down the length of the arrow he was trying to whittle. The bend in the shaft was off, so it seemed like this would be a slight waste of wood. He dropped it, and it fell 40 feet past his swinging legs to land in the pile that had built up.

The catwalks were his domain. While the others had eventually drifted off to establish themselves in other places, he'd prefered the area above. There it was quieter, and he had much more space to set up his practice range.

The range that Anna was now using. He hadn't had the guts to say anything when she'd climbed up and began practicing earlier, and she didn't say a word to him either.

She hadn't spoken a word to any male explicitly. Not once, at least from what he'd seen.

"ZAP!" Julia also had yet to point her laser up in the day since she'd acquired it, so that was a bonus. "ZAP!"

Below him, a particularly louder scream echoed out. Maybe someone would finally do something about the homicidal toddler running around?

" $#&! LEO, SO HELP ME MARS, I WILL TEAR OFF YOUR ARM!"

Yep. Just a matter of time.

* * *

"Hide me. Please."

Dakota turned around fully, but saw no one. Then he merely moved his head to see, and saw Leo using his body as protection. The mechanic must have moved around behind him.

_Circles. Mirrors. Tribute._

"Yooou flirted with heeer, and then you giiive a laser a fiiive year old." The zapping had ceased, but the phantom remnants of rushed movement reverberated in the chamber. "Sooo I'm gonnna hide."

"Take me with you!" pleaded Leo, clutching the back of Dakota's sweater.

"Annnn-na's up there."

_Maiden. Huntress. _

"Nevermind." The mechanic avoided Anna to his best ability since he'd learned exactly what the Huntresses were.

Ah well. Shrugging, Dakota dragged himself up the rungs of the ladder.

"Mommy," whimpered Leo behind him. Vaguely, the Son of Bacchus heard the boy under him scamper off.

Reaching the top, he looked back down. He nearly fell off as he swooned, but soon refocused on a figure gesturing at him from the floor. Reyna, asking for directions in sign language. The Roman dialect variant of ASL.

_Hunt._

She was asking where the target went. Huh. From the curse word, he'd thought it was Aly that was chasing down Leo. Oh well. He swept his arm in the general direction Leo had headed off to.

Then his attention snapped back to his closer vicinity as he dodged an arrow. Nearly cutting into an ear, his instinctual movement had prevented his injury and instead let the projectile embed into the bullseye of the target behind him.

Looking across the way, he located its sender and treaded silently over to her.

At Anna's contemptuous refusal to look at him, he merely cocked his head. There was no way a Huntress couldn't see him there, and nothing could pressure him to do something he hadn't intended.

For some time, even as the chase below continued, he followed her as she continued moving targets. When the archer finished up using the arrows in her quiver, she left to retrieve them. He calmly circled the other way, and at the center target offered her the arrows he'd collected in one hand.

_Impasse._

They stood resolute, before Anna ripped the arsenal out of his hands testily. "I didn't need your help."

Before she could stalk away, he pulled out one more arrow from behind his back. He examined her quizzically. "That'sss not the point."

"Then what is?" she countered, returning to snatch away the remaining arrow away.

"You should knowww," he responded, carefully looking into her eyes. The red tinge in her irises had completely disappeared, and now seemed more yellowy. It certainly had a very strange effect on the overall metallic silvery color. "Why does one Hunt in groups?"

The albino scoffed. "I rejected that notion long ago."

"How longg? Decccades? Centuries?" asked Dakota.

"A millennium and a half," clarified Anna, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

_Collapse._

"The fall…" whispered the Son of Bacchus. He'd drilled that into his memory - the end of the empire, which had lasted a millennium itself. Three times longer than the Greek civilization - something to be proud of. For a time.

What had Rachel told him she had said? A … a product of the Roman era.

"I hunt alone. Now leave before-"

"That must suck," he interrupted. And before Anna could respond, Dakota fell off the catwalks (onto a mechanical dragon [safely]).

* * *

"Percy, what's your favorite flower?"

The boy stopped putting up his clothes to dry to answer her directly. "Rachel, this is your last question for the week. Ok?"

"Oh, phooey. Let me ask a different one then." Rachel looked down from the scenery she'd been painting. It was simple - a sun glowing from behind a mountain by the bay, covered by a lovely spring bloom.

Percy sighed. Well, as long as he wouldn't have to answer another 50 until another time. "Fine, now what is it?"

"Do you think you are obligated to do things because you must or because you choose to?"

The Son of Poseidon frowned. What? "Can I just answer another ten easier questions?"

"Nope" bubbled Rachel, cleaning her brush.

Percy groaned.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 56

(Excerpt)

…

Dakota decided to teach sex ed to the boys for some reason. Even Harley. I'm scarred for life. I haven't asked Aly yet, but I don't think Rachel teaching the girls went any smoother.

…

* * *

"Thanks, Perseus," Reyna whispered, Shivering, she did her best to cover her mouth before nearly coughing out her lungs.

The boy ceased 'cooking' to help Reyna, rubbing her back until her convulsions ceased. "It's nothing" yawn, "just soup."

Reyna sniffled. "It's like 2 am. Just let *cough *cough … me be grateful."

Everything was just a bit fuzzy. She wasn't even sure she was really sitting there with Percy. It just didn't seem real … there was that constant buzzing noise, and the chicken noodle soup that Percy was warming up just smelled heavenly.

"Never did get to finish that talk," Percy said tiredly, pouring out the soup from the cooking pot, "But don't think you're in any state to."

Her hearing was always clear, even in the din of battle. She mostly ate for substance, not for the taste. And she definitely wasn't blushing because Percy had heard her stumbling about and came out to help her. Nor because he'd practically carried her over to the kitchen and brought a blanket to cover her and warm her up.

She looked up from the spoonful she just scooped. At least she didn't need him to feed her. That would have been too embarrassing. She did her best to glare at Percy, who was dozing in his seat across from her. "This never *sniff happened, ok?"

"Mk," murmured Percy, definitely about to fall asleep. "Lemme just …"

He wandered away momentarily, and Reyna contentedly sipped away at the bowl of broth. Soon enough, he came back with a box of kleenex. "Gotta get back to Taia before she wakes up. Feel" yawn, "better, mhm?"

The kind boy embraced her from behind. His warmth was tangible from even under the thick layers of covers. And his face was definitely too close to hers - she could feel her frazzled, unbraided hair being brushed away by the movement of his head by her shoulder.

She wasn't sure if she shirked away or nuzzled into the hand that ruffled the top of head.

But she was certain that she'd prefer Percy to stay with her rather than Aly.

Wait, who was Taia?

* * *

"Before coming here, I'd lived in a maze of horrors. There was always this one particular section that I'm come by, over and over," began Bobby, "A skeleton. Next to it, a six-pack of glass bottles, full of white dust. The first time it had been scary. Before I escaped, it was a comforting sight. If I saw it, I knew where I was."

Rachel listened attentively. It was just the two of them, eating at lunch at a diner. Some others had also went out, for one reason or the other, but they'd paired up to work together to get more food for the pantry. She'd started her questions, and Bobby always answered promptly. Directly and simply, giving no more than what was asked.

She'd asked how he'd gotten to the Bunker. Something she didn't know.

"One day I was being chased, by mortals. Mortals, of all things." Bobby paused for water.

"How did you know?"

"They were shooting at me. Using guns. I got shot in the leg, there's a scar here." He pulled up his jeans, exposing an off color indent in his leg. "I forgot how long they chased me. I forgot how long I'd been down there. Not that it mattered, anyway."

"One day, I finally found a way out. Crawled out from under a pile of boulders that looked like a pile of shit. Leo's dragon found me. Now I'm here."

For some time, the two sat there, finishing their meal. Eventually, Rachel asked another question. "How'd you end up there though?"

"I was captured and forced to play in a gladiator tournament. Some monsters …"

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 57

(Excerpt)

…

Leo isn't particularly smart, for all his skills in mechanics. This week, he's given Julia a paintball gun, water bombs, and even a rocket powered race-car.

On the days Reyna was sick, Silena helped to beat him up. He's lucky Lee is willing to patch him up, because Taia isn't happy with him either.

…

* * *

Sizzle. "Oh hello there, beautiful."

Even if Anna was a Huntress, she was looking really depressed as of late - and it was Leo's job as a smooth gentleman to help her out of her funk. Even the sweet little tyke known as Julia had noticed, and asked him to help.

Not really sure why she asked him of all people, but since she'd offered to help name the dragon, the price was definitely worth the cost.

The girl kept skinning the rabbits she'd caught. "Another flirtatious word out of your mouth, and I will dislocate your arm. Again."

Maybe not? Leo winced as he recalled his limb being yanked out of its socket. "Ah. Ok. Thanks for the warning, luv."

"…"

Shit.

POP.

"HEPHAESTUS'S HAMMER, OW!"

* * *

"Dakota. Dakota! Wake up!"

Deflecting a swatting arm, Reyna did her best to wake the napping boy from his nightmare as he slept on the floor of the Bunker's cargo bay. The tossing and turning made it rather difficult to rouse him.

"Hmmm? Ave, Praetor!" The petite girl froze as the boy snapped awake and launched an immediate Roman-esque salute. No, the exact variant that the Romans used.

"Not funny," she sniped, "That camp is behind me."

Dakota's eyes were blank, but locked on hers. "But it nevers leaves you."

"Noww if you'll exxxccuse me, I need a drink." The boy rose and stumbled away.

* * *

"Percy! Come over here!" called Rachel. "Do you have any gum left?"

Percy pat his pockets to check before answering. "Yeah. Why?"

"Taia's in your guys' room right now, digging through her bag. She ran out without noticing, so you better give some to her and go out and get some more before she cracks."

He hurried over to the sleeping quarters, stepping into his and Aly's room to the side. It wasn't large, but seemed smaller because of the bedding and mattresses strewn across most of it. Part of the mess was because Taia was tearing away at the bedsheets looking for her 'fix,' but for the most part it was because of their odd sleeping arrangement.

She didn't trust anyone else to room with her (and there were only so many rooms for everyone - if Lee hadn't chosen to sleep in the catwalks, there wouldn't have been enough space for everyone). There had been a little trouble stealing mattresses, but then they'd killed some guy named Procrustes. Now there was a semi-elaborate setup of multiple mattresses and blankets and pillows so that they could crash in multitudes of ways, separate or not.

"Hey hey hey. Calm down. Here." His ally's blubbering slowed as he seized her shoulders, forcing her to realize he was there. He handed her the half full pack, and she quickly fished out a piece to put in her mouth.

Like she was sighing, the tension in Taia's body slipped away, and she hugged Percy tightly. The movement caused them to topple over, landing on a mattress decorated with a polka dot esque dinosaur pattern on it. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," she blabbed over and over.

"You've been alright lately?" Percy pat the back of her head, stroking and brushing the ginger hairs. Even though they'd felt things were settled in for a while already, it was still busy. Fighting off monsters or demigods nearly every time they'd gone out, from The Valley of Fire to Lake Superior, dealing with and leading the others, there was little time for real, personal talk that wasn't impeded by exhausted minds. "Never got a chance to say sorry about sharing your name, so - sorry."

"Things are … fine. We're alive. We've got other people with us. We've got food and water. Life goes on. Just tiring." The girl sighed, before rolling off him to lay besides him. "And it's ok. I was thinking about fricken sharing it anyways. Just gotta make other ones then."

"Other ones?" Percy looked at Aly curiously.

"Names have power, Percy. You've said it a few times yourself. They might be less powerful today, but they still have their … effects. Anyways, I tracked down the person who'd shared my name. Reyna. When'd you tell her?"

Puzzled, Percy scratched his head. "Don't remember telling her."

"What? Didn't share it to her in some way to get on her good side?" teased Taia.

The Son of the Sea was only even more confused. "Why would I want to get on her good side? Why would I need to, beyond the obvious?"

Taia raised a single eyebrow. "Beyond the obvious? You can be so stupid sometimes."

A bell tone sounded. "There's that damned shift - c'mon, let's go get more gum. But first -"

Taia spit out her gum, a piece of thoroughly disgusting rubbery material now that she'd chewed her way through the flavor. Instead of disposing it in the trash can in the corner, she promptly wadded it into Percy's hair. "Now we're cool."

She cackled on her way out as Percy desperately pawed at the gunk in his hair.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 58

(Excerpt)

…

Outside of fighting a few hellbeasts, got to talk to Reyna two days ago. She said that I could forget about the thing she'd wanted to talk about. I tried to push on the topic a little, but she just clammed up and looked at me very aggravatingly, so I dropped it.

…

* * *

"Um, Rachel?"

"Yes?"

Silena tapped her foot, looking around at the mess in the kitchen and dining area. "What exactly is this stuff?"

"Um … I tried to making a dessert. It was supposed to be ice cream, but then some mousse and jello mixed together somewhere along the line, and then frozen with the help of some kinda freeze ray Leo pulled out."

"Popsicle!" exclaimed Harley, running to Silena to hug her. The girl quickly held him away at an arm's length to keep him from smearing his sticky self on her clothes.

Unfortunately she failed to keep Julia from doing the same. "JULIA!"

* * *

Anna crouched, sensing someone behind her. Footfalls, definitely of a human being. One that had no wilderness training.

A leaf crunched. Seven o'clock.

Without warning, her bow was aimed steadfastly, nocked with an arrow that had dropped from her sleeve. "Why are you here?"

Silena edged around the woods, coming more fully into view. "Must you keep that arrow at my face? I'm not an enemy."

Undeterred, Anna repeated her question. "Why are you here?"

Here, being the woods where she'd encountered the others in the first place. She could still see the remnants of their battle - scars and gouges in the trees, the calamitic mess of torn earth, even a few discolored stains here and there. The autumn leaves had fallen, so it had taken effort to uncover some of their tracks.

The final straw.

The Greeks had been powerful. Objectively, the Romans were more powerful. Ancient Greece was more a disorganized mess than anything else, despite the great philosophers coming from that period. Rome had conquered them easily. But Greece has eventually subverted Rome. The Greek-like Byzantines outlasted the fall of the Roman empire.

"To talk. Now if you would put that down?" Silena cleared some space to lean on a small boulder that had been unearthed by Percy's powers weeks ago.

"What of?" asked Anna warily. She shot the arrow into the ground, letting the accumulated tension in the bowstring release. Despite her strength and the bow's properties, it wouldn't do to form bad habits.

"Why were you with the Huntresses?"

"To remain virginal. To avoid the company of boys. To Hunt. To have companions."

"Yet you've already denied one."

"Yes." She no longer truly had fellows. Not in centuries.

"Why do you despise males so much?"

"They exist." Every male she'd known had been atrocious before the Hunt. The few that had ever gained her respect had lost it soon enough.

"No sob story? No betrayal of love, attempted rape, anything?" Silena asked incredulously.

"Not personally." Not to her.

"Are you against even trying?"

"I have no reason to seek the company of one."

"Are you against one seeking yours?"

That was a thought. "None have."

Her family and more specifically her oaf of a brother didn't count.

"But are you against it?"

When Anna didn't give a reply, Silena tromped her way back through fallen leaves.

* * *

Percy's Journal

Entry 58

(Excerpt)

…

That's all I can write. This is the last page, because Lee and Leo decided they wanted to have a paper airplane contest because we'd been stuck inside. Then Harley joined in. Then Dakota. Then just about everyone else. The only reason why they didn't use this page is because there's writing on the other side.

So I need another journal.

* * *

"It's time, right? Season seem to be right."

"Almost. It's a shade away. I'll … I'm … I'm sorry."

"No worries. I believed you when you told me back then, and I still believe you now."

"Doesn't change that I'm not happy with what I see."

"I know."

"I'll miss you when …"

"Hey, hey. There's a bit of time. And I'll find you in the next life."

Silver flashed.

* * *

A narrow stone walkway floated on air above the expansive city of Manhattan at the height of a flying airplane. White marble steps twisted and turned up an unmoving cloud into the sky. At its end was the peak of a mountain, its summit covered with unmelting snow. It seemed rooted in the cloud, and clinging to the sides of the mountain were tens if not hundreds of multileveled palaces and mansions. Decorations varied, columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with the day. Crazily winding roads led here and there, and at the peak, the largest palace shone against the snow. Gardens were perched here and there, flowering shrubs of reds and whites and trees of oak and maple seeming to almost fall off the steep slopes. An outdoor market was completely filled by a riot of color, an amphitheater was carved deeply into the mountain rock, and a racing arena and a coliseum on the other side. An Ancient Greek city that did not lay in ruins, but resting above one of the most prosperous cities of a new age.

The population was no less awe striking. Beautiful nymphs picked olives from their gardens, sellers on the street yelled out offers for ambrosia kebob. New weapon sales here, mock replicas of the famous magical items there. The Nine Muses were tuning their instruments for street concert, which many minor gods and goddesses seemed to be waiting for. Everything glittered white and silver, or were vibrant in their own right. It was almost as if a gay pride march had littered their signature colors across the streets. It was more festive than a mortal Halloween, Christmas, and New Year's combined.

After all, it was the day that the Olympians congregated. They needed to be together to fight the darkness - the day lasted the shortest out of the entire year. The massive palace looked as cheerful as the rest of the mountain, clean and glimmering. However, it didn't sound the same.

_I should visit Pluto_, resolved a goddess in the guise of an old woman, tending a fire. _He hasn't attended any meetings for so long. And he's always so terribly lonely at this time of the year, without his wife._ A loud riff blared, and atrocious singing rang equally loudly. It wasn't that the singing was bad, just far too overpoweringly sweet. _And he's the only person who isn't remarkably stupid._

Elder siblings had to stick together. With that, she tottered into the flames and disappeared.

Moments later, the Olympians arrived.

Twelve thrones were arranged in a parabolic arch, under a ceiling that mimicked the sky above. They curved around the enormous fire crackling in the central hearth pit, of which the crone had tended.

At the head, the very largest, was a simple throne of solid platinum with a few etchings of lightning upon the sides. The occupant sitting in it, however, was far more sophisticated. A well-trimmed beard of marbled gray and black hair framed a proud, handsome, and grim face. The very air crackled around the being and smelled distinctly of ozone.

To the king of the god's right sat a god of clear familial relation, but dressed far more lax in beach clothing and sitting in a ship captain's chair. Black leather, and a custom built-in holster for a fishing pole.

Continuing down, a mech of a large misshapen cripple whose grimy features were alight with flame sat upon a huge mechanical massage chair, which was embedded with a mess of bronze, silver, and gold gears.

Next was a booth, at which two twins seemed to be operating a telegram machine. One was tapping away messages that did not seem to be in Morse code, while the other was transcribing something down from whatever he was hearing.

Past that, a man sat on a pure gold seat playing a lyre rather loudly to entertain himself as they waited for his sister's arrival.

Finally, capping off the right arc was a throne comprised of chrome and leather, and the armrests seemed to consist of impossibly large human skulls. A man with glowing eyes hidden behind dark shades sat cleaning his fingernails of what suspiciously looked like dried blood, using a knife that seemed to be hidden from underneath a cross between that of an army soldier's uniform and hoodlum biker's leather.

At the king's left was a silver haired stern faced lady dressed in a rich royal blue dress, cloaked by goat's skin atop the shoulders, watching the proceedings.

A rich green robed dark-haired goddess on her left sat on a throne woven of branches from many different trees, calmly eating what looked to be raisin corn flakes.

Already looking conspicuous further on, a drunk sleeping male on the female side lay atop leopard skins, oblivious to the noise. His head was cradled by the vines that comprised his grand chair, which gave fruit to grapes, strawberries, and cans of Diet Pepsi.

An intense stormy gray eyed woman peered deeply into a laptop as she typed away at what looked like a high-schooler's desk, with the table holding up her device, legs crossed underneath an elegant white dress.

A throne of silver sat opposite of its gold counterpart, feeling extremely empty compared to everyone else's chairs of power.

Once again at the end, a woman whose features never seemed definite yet was definitely that of ideal beauty laid upon a couch, seemingly modeling for invisible photographers in a dress that seemed to morph along with her facial features.

All seemed fairly fine. Zeus was lazing about, waiting for his favorite daughter to return from her late hunts. Juno surveyed everyone else, watching for anything she could nitpick upon (thereby constantly criticizing Poseidon's attire). The Sea God seemed to be fishing into some portal, occasionally pulling out sea dragons, whale sharks, and even a polar bear. The mech in place of god of smithing was clinking away unresponsively; Hermes and Mercury managed messages at Mach 5; and Mars now playing a rather violent video game on a side television screen. Demeter still eating at corn flakes; Bacchus somehow had flipped in his chair, head at the foot rest, upside down like a leopard; Athena typing what looked like Matrix code; and Aphrodite now seemed to be sinking into some sauna.

Artemis did not show up.

* * *

**Anna's Take on the Author Notes**

Hm? No Lee this time around?

_I got too lazy to write him. He's just average, beyond skill with a bow. No character that I want to play around with to make pop._

Fair enough.

_In other things, Leo was planned to be the 10th member to join the group, but I changed him to 9 to fit Bunker 9, and Cabin 9. Fun with numbers and all that._

If you counted Julia and I as in the group. And all the new people, too.

_Well, it a) makes more sense that way and b) was easier not to have to continually add people or I feel the growth part of the story would be too long._

Like last time?

_Last time went topsy turvy and lost all semblance of following a proper arc._

But this time chapters are more willy nilly and don't exactly mesh.

_Mhm. Not gonna rewrite it anymore though. The only reason I rewrote this one last time is because I didn't do justice to character traits._

Seems like a bit of wasted effort if not appreciated.

_There are weak points to everything you aren't willing to devote to full time. But the character building this time around might be slightly skewed due to the faster tempo of events in the chapters. Either way, I wanted to bring in the majority of the set in faster._

Mhm hm.

_Otherwise, we wouldn't quite get to the romance, hm? Need all the setup._

Yes … very much looking forward to that. Especially with you suddenly just seeming to pull Taia and Reyna into it.

_What?_

Percy's not that much of a catch.

_Hey, I would think spending almost a year full time with someone of the opposite sex as a pubescent teenager would develop some feelings. Didn't quite devote enough to it, though, to be honest. But obviously Alytaia didn't quite reciprocate fully._

Fine. What about Reyna then?

_I'm trying to keep that part honest to the books. Both cases, she was lonely, found Percy's power/ability to be attractive (or a good aspect for a possible relationship). In this case, there's even no bad history between them - it's good this time._

Fair enough.

_But I'm aiming for Artemis, so … well got to her this chapter._

Feh. We'll see about that.

_Updates will now be (hopefully) at the end of every month. Title origin, Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas._

**Alternate Title: LOL at Lulls**

_Favorite, follow, review. Updated 6/24/15. Edited 7/15/15. Rehauled 7/28/16_


	19. KoK V2 C6 Mombasa

This is the extent of V2. V1 may have gone a bit further, but V2 only rewrote up to this much.

* * *

"_The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." -Robert Frost_

* * *

"Hey Lee, y'know where Anna is?"

"Went outside. Door's propped open. I think she went to go look at the moon."

Percy walked outside and looked up. Despite only in waxing phase, the moon glowing unnaturally bright. The moonbeams draped over the shadowy gloom of the cliff, where he could see glints of silver. He waited for his eyes to readjust for another moment, and soon picked out a ladder made of silver arrows shot into the stone, leading to the top of the cliff about a hundred feet up.

"Thank the gods I'm not afraid of heights," Percy grumbled. He climbed up cautiously, wary of each handhold dislodging from the cliff face. As deeply embedded as they were, he was reasonably afraid his weight would bend the shafts to send him tumbling down. Which was another point altogether, really. How skilled and powerful was Anna to shoot so many arrows that cut into solid granite at such distances with such strength?

Eventually, only having looked down once or twice and feeling nauseous at the great height, he clambered on to flat plateau of a peak.

Detail on Artemis

What recieved him was the most skeptical look he'd ever seen.

?

"If I may ask something?" he began, stone faced.

"You just did. Now leave," the Huntress said curtly.

A beat. Anna did nothing to send him away, though.

"I do have enough initiative to address longstanding issues left to rot," he replied stoically, "The two children's moods affects everyone's morale. Harley is excited and happy when Julia is, but Julia's true wellbeing is dependent on how she interprets yours."

"Perhaps,"

"So why did you leave the Huntresses like how you said?" immediately began Percy, watching the girl to see her reaction. "Sure, you found yourself annoyed that the group was beginning to become a female supremacist group. But wasn't it already?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure it began like that. The Lady is much like that, even abusing her own twin for being male. I was once just like so, killing many boys just like you. Sons of Poseidon too." she said, now matching Percy eye to eye, crimson meeting sea-green. "But times change. I changed. It's difficult to justify such, especially when one witnesses females act exactly like the males you hate. Is it worth becoming a hypocrite, Son of the Sea, to defeat your enemies? Should you become like them to defeat them?"

Percy's eyes averted, unnerved by Anna's question, and her overall intensity. While not being the most attractive person he had ever seen, Anna was actually much like Taia - pretty but forgettable, as if trying to camouflage rather than stand out. The boy could see the practical purpose of it, seeing as the girl used to be a Huntress. "I suppose … no. I haven't had to consider such, really. I'm merely trying to get my friends and I to survive right now."

"There was a single companion in my time with the Huntresses whom I very much enjoyed the company of. Her reasoning for being there is childish, but she the most level-headed of them all. I ask in her place, what is your favorite constellation?"

"Then it would be the following." Pulling out an arrow from the rock with slight difficulty due to positioning and depth of embedment, he lightly tossed it over to the albino girl. "I'll put it in the plans to make some path up here to make things easier. Good night, D."

The once huntress sat up, considering the arrow now laying on the ground next to her. Holding it up, she aligned it in the sky. "Well," Anna muttered to herself, a grin for her long time friend Zoe Nightshade in place, "at least it's not Hercules himself, if an arrow he shot."

In the sky, _Sagitta _the Arrow gleamed, once poised to strike at the Eagle _Aquila_, sent by Zeus to feed upon Prometheus's liver.

* * *

There was one Janus cult that had a magical base in some kind of door factory. A fellow huntress had once mentioned it being like some Pixar movie involving monsters. Janus was a fairly important Roman minor god

* * *

The mortals have gone nuts over the radio recently too. Leo had long ago set up radio around so he could listen to things, and apparently there's some new product called an iPhone coming up from a company called Apple. The mech is thinking he could maybe adapt that for our use without it calling the attention of monsters. How the hell do monsters know when demigods use cell phones anyways?

* * *

Ducking under the swipe of Reyna's spear, Percy take advantage by diving into her guard. However, he was forced away by the flash of the girl's knife, which snapped out like a snake. "This is getting nowhere," Percy admitted, backing up. "I'm not learning anything about swordplay trying to duke it out with you, and can only match you using the knife and bar combo."

"Yes, you're surprisingly good with those," complimented Reyna as she ceased her advance, pulling back her braid and swiping away at sweat. "It's a shame Dakota couldn't teach you how he wields his sword."

"Are you kidding me? How he fights is a style?" asked Percy in disbelief. "I'm pretty sure whatever he does requires him to be high on drugs or intoxicated by alcohol!"

"Perhaps. But have you beaten him in a spar?" Reyna sat down, inviting Percy to sit down next to her.

"Just because he's so good I can't get past his guard doesn't mean his style is something I can use as well as he does." Percy dropped to the ground, laying on his back to find a few clouds in the distance.

* * *

Bobby the Gladiator told us much more about his time underground. And it's definitely quite worrying to know that the Labyrinth is absolutely crawling with Saturn worshippers. Worst of all, their motives are still completely unknown compared to the Greeks, Romans, and two Hunts. The Greeks and Romans fight each other, and the Hunts compete for being the best. Slightly off tangent, on our trips around to get more supplies, rumors have been coming around of the Greeks and Romans going to battle again. Don't know how that will go … But seriously, I'm really reconsidering the phrase ignorance is bliss right now. Sure, we might be safer with the knowledge some weird cult is preying on people that go anywhere near Labyrinth entrances, but hell that makes everyone worry.

Among other annoying things is the constant thunderstorm nearby in Manhattan. What happened there? Rachel's more smug than usual face is another, and the final part is the amount of satyrs that harass us everytime we get outside. I swear, they are getting more and more aggressive every single day. And bloody flute music from Taia, gah! Sure, we're all busy and need training, but staying in the bunker so long everyday due to crazed nature spirits is holy fricken hell annoying.

On the simpler side, Taia has finally given up on Aly. Told everyone, Reyna punched her for also using an A-name alias, and on and on. She still wants me to call her Alytaia though. I'm glad for that.

Demigods really are crazier than expected. Everyone is a bit stir crazy at this point. Worst is Julia (who we now know is to be some legacy of a minor god), who still gets toys from Leo. Training abilities are good and all, but there's only so long you can swing blades at one another or shoot arrows until you get bored.

I haven't been able to practice my abilities at all with water for a while. As of late I can only really watch the others develop their abilities. Lee, practicing his medicine and archery. Taia, getting better with her gradually more and more annoying flute music, and getting the sound waves to do new things. Leo, constantly building or repairing everything. Reyna, training to work in tandem with her dogs. I do admit that Dakota, Rachel, Anna, and Julia don't do much, but what do they need to do? I've never seen anyone fight as smoothly as Dakota, however drunk he is; Rachel is infinitely calm and collected. Anna is I don't know how old, and Julia is a kid. They're all far more comfortable with themselves. Even the new guy, Bobby, seems content in just practicing to get better and following orders.

Percy's Journal

Entry 106

Well … it's Latin, and I'm Greek, but irrumabo.

Just … irrumabo.

* * *

Anna was running. She did not have her weapons, and could do nothing to protect herself from what was after her. Her white hair was bound up into a loose bun, tucked into a raised hood. Her ruby eyes shone out from beneath her gray colored jacket, and her dark jeans were tearing in the amount of speed she was pouring into her legs.

Behind her, a dark chuckle could be heard. With the whispering buzz of many wings, an almost bug like creature suddenly phased out of a magical stealth above her as the monster landed in front of her. A beautiful royal purple it was, yet its purpose was only to consume. Rows of shimmering purple spikes on the creature's shoulders suddenly realigned to aim at Anna, and anna stumbled in an effort to dodge as the spikes flew at her, propulsed by a dark energy.

Khaz, for that was what the creature was, only smirked as Anna jumped into the air to dodge the spikes. The spikes detonated, and the air itself crystallized into a purple mineral, trapping Anna's silver shoe covered boots. The once Huntress struggled to pull out her legs, but in vain. She watched as the monster approached, phasing into a magical stealth a few feet away before reappearing in front of her face, claws half the length of the monster's entire body poised to cut off her head. She closed her eyes, breathing softly to accept her fate as the poisonously glowing claws descended.

She woke up gasping, in her shared room with Rachel. She burst upright in her preferred bed of her camp traveling roll. Rachel was actually awake, sitting on an actual mattress on the opposite side of their room, watching as Anna retched. She seemed to be waiting patiently for Anna to speak. She would, but … in all her life, she had never felt so close to death before.

"As much good as I have done over my very long years," choked out the albino, heart beating heavily, "I feel as if I am going to pay for actions that I have committed millennium ago."

Rachel, bright green eyes absorbing what she saw, only watched as blood dripped from Anna clawing at herself. Knowing she saw truth, the knowledgeable redhead simply asked one question.

"Did you regret performing those actions?"

Anna pulled out a first aid kit she kept nearby, bandaging her wounds instead of eating ambrosia. It wasn't worth it for such small wounds. "After so long in this mortal realm," she said slowly, measuring her response, "I now regret what I have long ago justified."

"I know your secret."

Anna stiffened. "What?" She clutched a previously unseen amethyst crystal that hung on a necklace.

"Oh, yes," said Rachel, smiling. The green eyed lass continued, "Spying is so naughty. But I can see why. I have my own secrets too."

Anna watched as green mist leaked from Rachel's eyes, which were now glowing in the dim light of their room. "As with my age, I know exactly what that is," the girl said suspiciously, "So why are you telling me such if you believe me to be spying?"

"Because I finally know your motives."

Off to the side Julia snored, releasing high pitched puffs of air.

"And those are …?"

"To get away from your sister." Was her friend demented?

"I have sisters no more, Rachel. Or have you already forgotten the debacle with the Huntresses?" Anna was quite confused.

"Oh, I never forget. But I can see the connection you have. It's there. Weak. You were not all of yourself, or you were finally being yourself. I wasn't sure which at first, but I'm starting to see it."

Anna tensed. Was Rachel always so perceptive, or was it the Spirit within?

"The Age of the Roman Empire must have really been quite strong, Anna, if you are as you are now. Have you actually made any of your own choices over the past one and a half millennia, or did you simply follow under your sister's stronger personality? Did no one notice, at all?"

"I have never had a true sister, Spirit-Carrier, and you know it."

"Yes." Rachel turned her head to watch Julia shift in her sleep, curling around a panda pillow pet Percy (who had originally used it himself) gave her. "Yes, I do."

"Then why do you speak as such?" Mortals were usually quite boring, annoying, and simple. But this girl …

"Because your sister changed you so much, didn't she? She took away much of your negative aspects, she took them into herself and changed you. She thought she had helped you, and was still helping you, but in the end she became a new person and so have you. Was that not how it was?"

Anna was shocked at Rachel's powerful sense for perception. "How much of this is what you see, and how much is what Delphi sees?"

"Oh, you need not worry. We're both one and the same now. Just opposite of you and your sister." Rachel laid back down, pulling over her covers and closing her eyes.

"If it's anything much, I think that you enjoy your life much more now. You seem to a better person now. Human. Emotional. In becoming worse herself, your sister has given you the chance to become better, and you have."

Anna also laid back into her bed, hand still caressing her amethyst crystal hanging at her neck. "Why have you let me stay so long, if you had been so suspicious?"

"Because where others would see red blood shed, I see golden opportunity."

* * *

Leo could feel there was something wrong.

It was in his bones. A tingling sensation, like that of a spider was crawling on his neck, as if he was being watched. Not only that, but it felt like his bones were vibrating, setting him on edge.

Well, he knew he was just as if not more paranoid than the moody one-eyed Harry Potter character from the movie. At least in terms of home safety. Not only did he have cameras set up in the miles around the Bunker and a colossal dragon to protect himself, there were quite a few traps here and there. If he hadn't led in the others when they first arrived, they likely would have fallen into some tabasco pit of doom.

And since the incident with the Minotaur, the Son of the Forge had upped the ante just to make sure nothing slipped by them again. Mechanical ents of death aside, reusing the camp ruins for springload catapults and such was quite useful. And the twin's jail cell was now alarmed, trapped, bolted, and watched full time with a miniscreen he kept in his pocket. The only blind spot the camera had in their room was the toilet, which was under the camera itself.

If by any chance that they were going to try to escape through that instead of the metal grilled walls and concrete foundations, then the toilet would explode. They were already warned about that too.

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to leave just Leo at base while everyone else went to get supplies?

ZAAAAAAAAP. FWOOSH. POP.

Well, he and Julia.

Eh. He could add heat flares to Festus in the meantime. And maybe a plasma gun. Variations of the laser he made for Julia. In fact, why not incorporate all the toys he made for Julia into Festus? No way knowing when those might come in handy.

He had to give over a cattle prod to get a better name for his dragon, but it was well worth exchanging. Even if he would have to be healed by Lee later.

Leo never did realized that if Julia's toys could be so easily weaponized, that they really weren't age appropriate for her.

* * *

Anna really wasn't comfortable at the moment.

Perhaps it was because she still felt exposed in the daylight. Maybe it was because Percy was just a bit too close to her right side. Or she was uncomfortable being without the huntresses for so long. Even could be because Rachel knew something about her that she still hadn't explained.

The biggest cause was probably leaving Julia with the airheaded mechanic. After all, whilst Anna never met any smith as skilled as Leo besides Hephaestus himself, she had also never met someone so terrible at relating to people as the god. Perhaps it was inherited. The sunlight hardly mattered, though it did make her wonder if her brother was looking for her. Did he even know? Probably not. Anna had never been strong enough to face off the leader of the Huntresses in her decisions. It was actually far nicer being without having to deal with the huntresses, as in her opinion they were too shallow.

It was slightly hypocritical, considering how she was probably even more hypocritical when she started the Hunt, but no matter. Percy was definitely a large factor in roughing up the kinks of her joints. The girls were mostly simple to deal with, and she avoided both Lee and Leo. The former was due to the uncomfortability of the divine twins archery rivalry, and the latter was, as previously mentioned, airheaded and difficult to deal with.

Surprisingly, despite the awkward beginnings, Dakota was rather simple to approach afterwards. After a short time analyzing him, she had realized. He had some kind of trauma issue, and was coping with it the only way a Son of Bacchus could. Going insane, drinking gluttonously, and acting drunk. The boy still had that glint in the eye that she could recognize after years of experience, one that the beholder was always deluding the world in acts of delusion. Now, they got along alright, though there was a separate issue.

Percy himself was an enigma. He had a unique drive, the ambition of a person that only came once every century. The boy - no, man, knew what he wanted and fought for it. In the assault by rabid Stymphalian and feather throwing birds as they left for resupplying, the boy had shielded Taia's back with his own body when the keen birds had assaulted an opening. Admittedly, the Son of the Sea could have done much better if he was more skilled with the sword he was using and deflected the feather darts instead of blocking them with his body, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

Taia had pushed him into a nearby river for protecting her needlessly. It was all in good fun, as they both knew that the water would heal the wounds dealt to his arms and legs. But to see that camaraderie … Anna wished she had it herself. In the very beginning of the Hunt, she had had it. But over time, it had been lost due to multiple factors: death, leading to a jaded personality; age, cause for an inability to relate; opinions, in which hers were not as extreme as her fellow members; numbers, where she could no longer connect with the others.

The only friend she had had in fifteen centuries was Zoe Nightshade. She alone had cared when the largest factor of all had struck. Diana had taken over, and with her came the changes for a lifetime. A goddess's lifetime, considering the immortality she possessed. Was Zoe looking for her, perhaps? But without the same connections, she could only watch wistfully at Percy, at the head of the traveling pack towards Manhattan, hoping. Well, that was incorrect. The Son of Poseidon had tried his best to connect with everyone, especially Anna. But even still, with all that she was hiding, she would not try to bond with the only respectable male she had met in the longest of times. It would not be fair to Percy.

Which of course, led to the nagging thoughts Anna had on Rachel, and partially for Dakota. They both knew something about her, but to what extent she had no clue. Rachel was the more dangerous of both, but she had shared it with Dakota. The betrayer of the Huntresses knew so, she had seen the two share conversations and watch her carefully.

However, what irked her most of all was that immediately after this sharing of information, they had evidently decided to treat her exactly as they did before. Rachel was as much of a head in the clouds oddball as before, only smiling mischievously more often than not nowadays, and Dakota's spark in his eye only became clearer whenever he talked with her.

It was a sign that changes would come, but when? Living so long, going to Olympian meetings, fast paced alterations were unfamiliar to her. After all, her life had gone rather off kilter ever since the only major change in recent memory happened, the removal of the camps. It had led to … this. It was funny how Anna missed her brother. She could hear him try to force some pun about it, when she used to be able to tell him everything.

_Ah, your calling is hunting, which requires adapting. But Art, living, happiness: it is as easy to find as you in a dress._

Oh, if only he had truly been able to see how she'd matured since their separation.

* * *

Bobby was used to people forgetting him. In fact, even the author forgot about him. But nonetheless, he was on duty. That duty, self assigned as it was, was to watch the cell, and incapacitate all occupants with sleeping gas if necessary. He did.

* * *

Perhaps it didn't look the most interesting to others. That, she could admit. But to her, it was grand. The Library of Congress. It was rather boxy and old-timey on the outside, with plenty of double columns and arches, the lovely concentric study room, the nooks and crannies where she and her siblings stayed …

It was not the time to get lost in her admiration for her home, Annabeth reminded herself. She hadn't become leader of the Athenians at such a young age for nothing. Grit and knowledge had brought her up the ranks, despite others being older than her. Some of them probably just didn't want to be leader, but Annabeth knew everything would be better under her command. There was no way anything would go wrong under her control.

But right now she had to analyze some other information. Apparently, a mechanical owl built by a freelancer from down south had picked up key information about the Thieves beginning to move towards D.C. It was far too early to draw assumptions that it would be a raid on the Athenians, not to mention the Thieves would not be stupid enough to raid the heavily defended Library that the majority of the Children of Athena lived within. Their set up was near impenetrable, with living quarters hidden by Mist magics, security cameras trained with no blind spots (except a few in which was only known by her to be a secret path through the area - it included walking on furniture), and a guard made up of several automatons and a regular demigod rotations. The Thieves could feasibly raid, especially under the leadership of the Thief Lord. Annabeth was not arrogant enough to believe that the Thieves wouldn't invade, no. At least, not without trying to hide movements better and prerequisite scouting. And Luke wouldn't dare.

The utterly complete piece of trash had broken his previous promise of family, but there was no way he would attack her. Not without warning, at least. Luke had promised, after that fiasco …

So they were moving over for another reason. Now just what was it? If it wasn't to raid the Athenians, the only worthwhile group in the North East, then what were they going to do? As far as she knew, their pride would never allow them to be part of either the main Greek or Roman camps. As far as recent memory, there were very few children of the Big Three that hung around. There were certainly far fewer, perhaps the only good thing to come out of the World War II.

Ignoring the chance that Luke could have finally found where Thalia had went, Annabeth rifled through all other possibilities. There weren't any major forces of minor god children left around, most having been incorporated into the Greco-Roman war. Apollo's Hunt was too strong to raid, and the sects of children of Hephaestus and Aphrodite were down South. There only notable group of children of the wine god were intermixed with the few of the farming goddess, but lived west. The children of the war god lived in the Great Plains, so what exactly were the Thieves looking for?

She leaned back on the chair she was on and winced as an exposed screw nicked the back of her shoulder. Dammit, if their budget hadn't been reduced by that scamming sorceress!

* * *

Taia was happy.

Sure, the group - who was there? Dakota, Lee, Reyna, Anna, Rachel, Percy, her - had been iattacked by birds of all things, but she got to toss Percy in a river. It was kinda cute how Percy had been so insistent on protecting her.

had spent a lot of (well, pretty much all of) her time with him to some degree for almost another year. She loved him. Both she and he had said as much, not too long ago. But, the chemistry needed just wasn't there.

Taia could feel it deep down, that it wasn't to work.

But she was happy about that. Why?

Well, she had been a strong individual before she met Percy. But everything had been so lonely … friendships were not so much friendships as temporary alliances, and there were just too many outside factors to allow concrete trust. Percy - Percy had almost instantly sworn to never betray her, and there went away all those concerns. But … he felt like a big brother. Was that how a big brother was supposed to be?

Well, few demigods had real siblings, so it was quite a difficult question to answer. Not to mention she was technically older than Percy by a bit. But they were entirely comfortable with each other. Slept in the same room, essentially the same bed (if triple in area), and in general weren't afraid to change in the same room. Naked was too much, but underwear was fine.

She could suppose that was siblinghood.

And it was just way too much fun trying to get Anna to admit she was crushing on Percy. Seriously, that girl had been away from guys for far too long.

* * *

The alley was dark, the sky blotted by tall skyscrapers. It wasn't a safe area to travel through, let alone live in. But nonetheless, a pale raven haired boy with blood red lips sauntered slowly past doors to dilapidated apartments. He was being followed, and he knew it. The fluttering wings, louder than the flapping of the birds than before, and the soft screeching female voices gave much away.

Too much. Spinning around and throwing rocks like discus, Dakota pegged the three harpies in the air behind him. While they were certainly almost invulnerable to weapons that were not divine metal, a good old fashioned chunk of stone always worked. Actually, regular steels and other mundane objects did harm monsters - Odysseus had blinded Polyphemus with a tree trunk. It was simply that celestial bronze, imperial gold, and stygian iron were far more effective at it, and thus more popularly used despite rarity.

Dakota was much smarter than that though. He'd won many a fight before against other demigods because they didn't expect him to break their bones with rocks, steel bars, and baseball bats. It was certainly effective against the harpies, breaking their wings and dropping them to the earth. A few more pieces striking their heads quickly ended their lives, returning them to the hell from which they had whence came.

Continuing on, swinging a little bit with each step, the vampiric appearing drunkard was wandering slightly off course. Just slightly. It was not so much as to be so far away from the group that harpies would attack him because no one was close enough to help him.

Those harpies didn't exist. Not in his mind. They had once, maybe, but considering the dissipating piles of golden dust behind his meandering path definitely made sure they weren't. The others were used to him disappearing and reappearing. He always went back. No other group of people would tolerate his addictions.

He didn't want to remember. That was it. That was all he wanted.

All the foolish acting made things much simpler, getting everyone to underestimate him. But that gamble never worked with the ones who had trained him. He had almost been a leader, but …

Nope. Never again.

He'd rather find that warehouse that had stocked up on kool-aid and candy …

* * *

Reyna wasn't having the greatest of times.

She hated intruding on people. Period. She had found, when she was a little girl, that she had very much liked to lead people. It was satisfying, being able to lead her fellow kindergartners in art projects. Things were so much simpler back then, where she could draw herself riding a peanut butter horse and hunting with her precious dogs. And she would dictate to everyone else what was needed to be done to make mini models of it, and …

Reyna disliked people. For some reason, she could understand them really well. She would always be able to tell, and then convince them, help them, boost them. They would perform better, but only when focused on her goal. She could feel them happy, as her fellow little girl friends sculpted little dachshunds that they imagined themselves owning, and it filled the emptiness in her heart. She found it so hard to empathize with people. She could understand most everyone's drives, the whats, wheres, whens, whys, and hows of the whos. But she found herself incapable of caring, because they simply weren't important to her. All except her sister, whom she had lost so long ago.

And now, well. She so desperately wanted to be involved with everyone else. She finally wasn't forced to work alone, or as some kind of leader. It was so much easier to follow behind someone she could trust. She liked being the leader, maybe, but it was nice to be able to kick back and enjoy some rest while someone else took the handles. That someone being Percy.

Most everyone, she felt, was eh. Not bad, just that she didn't really feel strongly for them. Lee and Leo were tolerable and Julia great to look after but it was more responsibility. Even now she was getting stuff that Julia asked for. Dakota was interesting to work with, and had hidden depths, so ok there. Rachel was just frustrating to deal with, with cocked eyebrows and teasing statements everywhere; Anna was getting on her nerves because of … well, Reyna didn't like thinking about it. Nope. Then there was Taia and Percy.

As Reyna picked up a bottle of lemonade to take for herself, she watched the two. Despite the red and black mismatch of hair, she could see them actually being siblings. At first, she had suspected that Taia had liked Percy. If it weren't for sneaking back to watch them kiss a few months ago, and overhearing that they didn't like each other in that way, she found herself happy. She hadn't even revealed who she was back then, but …

She would call it Stockholm Syndrome, and it kind of was. But truly, her situation was much better than it used to be, fighting to be the best of the best in the Roman group. The Romans had become a pack, much like Lupa's wolves. However, there were just far too many vying alphas aiming for the top, and it was practically chaos. Gladiator duels to ascend in position, which were pretty much the biggest entertainment available. Killing smaller groups of demigods because they were weaker, forcing them to be slaves and fight for the Romans or even, she heard … raping them.

And so she felt herself slowly, slowly, ever so slowly falling for Percy. At first she was worried that Aly, or since then changed to Taia, was going to be competition. But no, it was Anna.

The thing about crushing on someone was that you could start to see how others felt for said crush. Even if Reyna hadn't witnessed Taia and Percy deciding not to enter into a relationship, she was already suspecting a sibling bond. Dakota was extremely devoted to Percy, though for reasons she wasn't exactly sure of. Rachel enjoyed being with Percy, but it seemed more often to be just poking fun and joking around. Lee was somewhat distant - probably because of the Minotaur snub; Leo was half worshipful towards the Son of the Sea after having a water versus fire duel. Julia treated everyone the same, so that just left Anna …

Who was in much the same position as her. Centuries in the Huntresses, with near no male contact most of the time. Perhaps the girl had been very anti-boy when she started, but it was extremely evident that her opinion had changed. Maybe Anna had seen too many manipulative, extremist, girls? Reyna had seen plenty back at the Roman camp. Fact was, Anna was practically obsessing over Percy. Had the girl never met a half-decent guy before?

Sheesh. The albino was watching Percy even now, as he joked around with Leo at some video game stand.

Well, actually … considering the view of that cute behind, Reyna could understand why Anna was looking. Not excuse, but certainly understand. Because, well, mhmmmm … booty.

* * *

ENCOUNTER MINOTAUR ON RETURN

The deep, rumbling, grunt of a large beast echoed lightly, the snorting and sniffing skin-crawling. Crawling up the side of a rock formation, Katie Gardner reached the top, her brow furrowed with a furious glare across her mug.

"Psst. Katie!"

The brunette's green-eyed gaze pierced down at a face just like hers, if it were not on a different person. That, and the emotions portrayed across Katie's twin were much calmer, a quiet focus but a smile playing lightly across Miranda's visage. "Does this look like a fist?"

"No, it looks like deer _skatos_! Could you focus? The damn Minotaur is after us!" Katie hissed out, drawing two small, light throwing axes from a strap at her right quads. They were both celestial bronze, like smaller replicas of the larger version that was attached to her back for melee fighting.

"Fine," said Miranda, her fingers playing at holes in her tattered clothing. The only way one could tell the two were different without getting to know each better could be done first by clothing. Not that they wore different clothing, for they wore matching green jackets and black shirts, and even similar jeans and shoes. Just the current pattern of fraying and tearing differed. The second was through weaponry, for Miranda carefully pulled off a sickle from her back, and unraveled a chain from around her right arm to attach to the handle.

As Miranda began to whir the now mid-range weapon, her twin watched the direction from whence they came. The shuddering steps upon the earth were now heavier and louder, but she could no longer pinpoint from where the sound came. The sun burned brightly, having reached into the early morning. Ensuring secure grips, both leaned to see silver flashes fly off into the air, and a few strong thuds.

A very loud grunt, before an enraged roar. The rampaging shook the very earth below them, shifting boulders by inches. It also distracted from a glow of blue light from below the twins, and covered the sound of a trap door opening. However, the twins did mad scrambling from beneath, even as the boulders that were their temporary elevation crumbled away, falling into unknown.

* * *

Percy held his weapon before him, a last line of defense in hopes of deterring the Minotaur from attacking. For now, the half-bull seemed to be growing more and more irritated by alternating volleys of silver arrows and magic music. Reyna had managed to bribe Leo one way or another to build her mechanical dogs now named Aurum and Argentum, and those two were glinting dangerously as they ran in circles to further distract the infamous monster.

The girl herself was currently on the opposite side of the Minotaur, likely analysing the best way to take down the bull. Dakota was … drunk? but ready for battle, just waiting for a direction for Reyna to point out that he could berserk into. Leo was trying to construct a trap nearby, but those wouldn't be ready for a bit. Rachel was taking care of Julia back at the Bunker, which they had rushed out of after Leo's sonar system detected the Minotaur being in range. Current plans were to delay until Leo finished constructing.

Frustrated, the Minotaur bellowed, the resulting sound wave actually knocking arrows from the sky and disrupting Aly's magic. Stomping, the beast similarly knocked everyone to the ground through the pseudo-earthquake caused before pulling out a few arrows embedded into its arm. Then, as Leo shouted, "DONE!", the beast trampled around the clearing, knocking down dozens of trees and forming a semicircular barrier. "I'M OK! THE TRAP'S BEEN TRIGGERED THOUGH!"

"No idea," said Lee, out of breath. As pulling a longbow was a serious workout, he was only just now able to get to Percy to talk to him. "Perhaps they ran away? But shouldn't we deal with this first?" As if on cue, the beast's eyes narrowed at them and charged.

"Dodge to the side!" yelled Reyna, who was trapped under a few large branches, Dakota working on rescuing her. "And don't let him grab you!"

Both boys pulled to opposite sides, not allowing the Minotaur to keep track of both at once. Ducking under swinging arms and heavy breathing, the boys kept running forward before they realized they had both trapped themselves in the barrier of timber. Turning, Percy was now fully able to comprehend the beast's terrible magnificence.

The infamous Minotaur, a monster whose legacy was written out in mythology. There was no residence for the beast this time around, as the Labyrinth was no longer its sanctuary. Muscled human arms rhythmically drifted back and forth across a barrel chest heaving up and down. Legs that seemed almost like a satyr, if not as strong as a bull's instead of a goat's, and massive hooves pawed at the ground, digging deep grooves. The head was most frightening, snot and spit running down and dripping to the ground, absolutely gigantic horns that were now leveling down so they could gouge into a demigod chest.

The horns! Supposedly the only material that could penetrate the Minotaur's body! "Lee, I have a plan." Looking to his left, he saw Lee had already worked his way up the fallen trees, finding small ridges to grip and using arrows to cheat handholds. "Shit." The beast charged, but was temporarily deterred by the two dog automatons that had emerged from the side. The two dogs were immediately fended off by two kicks that left imprints upon the bodies of gold and silver.

As the Minotaur charged once more, shaking off a piercingly high note that served to distract it, Percy also charged, his sword separating into a knife and bar. Jumping onto Argentum, which was once again rising, the dent in its body repairing itself, Percy springboarded up. The bull-man, unable to see Percy due to his lowered head, only felt his head dragged as both horns snapped off simultaneously, the movement almost snapping the beast's neck.

Percy hadn't fared much better. In the raw effort to hook his metal rod around a horn to continue his momentum upwards, he had cut off a single horn to use against the bull. However, he had not anticipated his blunt weapon to catch onto a trench in the horn and pull the other horn off with it. Thus, the arm holding the rod was dislocated.

Luckily, that seemed like that was all that was necessary. The Minotaur seemed to have learned its lessons from whatever past defeats it might have had, and took the loss of its primary weapons as a sign of retreat. The primeval panic that was caused drove the beast straight from it's created clearing towards an extremely familiar scent.

The Stygian heroes recovered and chased after the fleeing bull, catching up to it just in time for it to descent into some odd hole in the ground. The sliding trapdoor was constantly resetting itself in order to break through a boulder that was jamming the opening. The Minotaur had piledrived itself into the earth, leaving only a pile of odd boulders that looked like deer skat and an ominous square of rock in the ground, a Delta mark the only mar on its surface.

"Well, loooooks like it's time to get baaack," said Dakota, somewhat more attentive than usual. "Unless yooou guys wanna heaaad into there to loook for that thiing?" At the shaking heads, the demigods turned to head back to Bunker 9.

"Perce! Let me fix the stupid wound you got!" Aly piped up, inspecting Percy's hanging right arm. "I can heal better than Lee!"

"Well, since I wouldn't have dislocated the arm if Lee stayed instead of leaving, then sure," Percy said as Lee opened his mouth to say something.

"Hey, I saw an opportunity to get out and I did!" protested the archer, "I'm crap at melee fighting!"

Percy tried to continue arguing, but merely screamed in pain as his arm was pushed back into place. "What the hell? Di, why?"

"What?" asked the albino, straight-faced. "Aly was merely going to help you argue with Lee even further, so I took advantage of the moment to fix your arm."

As the group left, heading back to the Bunker half a mile away, none heard Leo as he yelled.

"Guys? Hello? Where'd you guys go? Where's the steroid bull at? GUYS?! WAIT UP!"

* * *

The dragon curled around Julia, whose gaping jaws were alight with flame.

"Oh!" bubbled the child, "I named the dragon! But don't tell Leo, ok, I need to bribe him for more toys!"

* * *

"This is a day I've been looking forward to for two-and-a-half years." No. Much longer than that. Even before he started renovating and repurposing and marketing so many small ideas, his overall goal was what would come next.

A man dressed in a black turtleneck stood almost casually in front of hundreds if not thousands of people. That was ignoring how distantly what he said would be televised, too. Sauntering across the stage in simple sneakers and jeans, his glasses glinted as he spoke. "Every once in awhile, a revolutionary product comes along that changes everything."

Everything indeed. No one would suspect. The product was a game changer, and with every little bit of special gold that he had put within - his master's plans would come into fruition, and he would be rewarded. "And Apple has been — well, first of all, one's very fortunate if you get to work on just one of these in your career. Apple's been very fortunate. It's been able to introduce a few of these into the world."

A few? HAH. He would flood the world with this. It would bring the world under his control, tearing away at the minds of stupid little mortals. And that was the beauty of it. No one would suspect mortals. Americans, Europeans, Asians, Africans. And the few Australians. He would use the relics of an age long past that he alone amongst so many others could see. No one could stop him, especially with the funding and partnership he received from the land developer and the movie star. His entire life had been devoted to pulling up the remnants of an all powerful substance, and he would rule the world with it.


	20. Fireworks in Rain

A one-shot inspired by a new year's dream three years ago.

* * *

_3 AM and the rain is falling …_

Percy inhaled a deep breath of sea air, savoring the rich, heady scent of nature. A flash of light seared its way through his closed eyelids, and the boom of a firework resounded out before hollowing in the frigid night. The demigod leaned forward with a slow sigh, towards the sea from his perched seat on the starboard ship railing. One sneaker-covered foot, at least, sat locked behind the lower tier of rails, keeping him from going overboard; the other foot (clad only in a black, cold, and dry sock) toed the whistling wind.

Tempting as the depths of the harbor were, Percy refrained from jumping in. With another detonation of light (green this time), in time with the slow lulling of the boat, he turned and slipped through the rail bars back onto the deck with nary a sound. His mind wandered, and his feet led him once around the moderately sized vessel and a few turns further before he found himself outside the main cabin. Where he'd been earlier, really. Another smattering of lights burst behind him, casting his shadow before him in blue - then orange - then red.

And there he hesitated, contemplating the wheel locked door in front of him. Oh, how would things go? With a ginger push, the demigod entered the dimly lit room. "Still here, Art?"

The giggle that tickled Percy's hearing in response warmed his soul vastly more than the insulated cabin atmosphere warmed his body. "And just where else would I be, silly?"

"Certainly not outside," Percy retorted, kicking off his shoe and peeling off his socks. With a single bounding step and twist, he slid his butt onto the bed that featured so centrally in the cabin. "I looked, but the clouds were too thick …"

The woman that resided within the fluffy heaven of pillows and blankets shifted to look up at him directly. Percy's breath hitched for a moment when she captured his eyes with her own startling silver eyes irises. The movement redistributed the areas of comfort on the mattress, and Percy took the moment of both of them readjusting minutely to move his attention towards admiring the swells of her right side. He smiled softly as he reached out to caress the skin of her exposed upper arm. She felt smoother than the silk that she lay on.

He moved his hand back to where it had begun its drifting, and traced along the silvery crescent tattoo that adorned - no, complemented - actually, no, accentuated her pale skin. "But I did find you right here, I suppose."

"Ah, yes. Back from nothing. Beginning again, and all that jazz," she mused in assent, before pulling away from his touch. The edges of her mouth tugged downwards as his wandering hand followed.

"Let me, please?" Percy pleaded. Too lazy to stretch his body further, he began playing with the woman's bed-messy cherry-red hair. "I've missed seeing you."

"Your hand is cold," she pouted, but returned nonetheless to let him continue his ministrations.

He'd only had a moment more to stroke her side (moving down to her blanket covered waist) before she brushed his hand off and scooted closer, forcing him to stand up or slip off the bed.

"If you're going to do this, join me properly," she ordered, rising from her mostly supine position. Forcibly turning Percy around, she wrapped around his back to begin undoing the bottom buttons of his black dress shirt.

The Son of the Sea grinned as he felt her nuzzle his back with her cheek, and mirroring her actions with his shirt buttons, top down. When their hands met, done with their work, he let her pull his arms around to his back, where she seized the cuffs of his shirt and yanked it off.

He turned around, eager to join her on the bed, only to find her with the covers kept tightly wrapped over herself. "Pants and socks, off."

And then they were gone, and she scooted back and raised the blanket to let him underneath the sheets. He climbed in, and she budged about at his side for only a second before leaving that area of the bed entirely in order to lie on top of him.

Silver and sea-green locked without a sound, and the rasps of the shifting sheets were accompanied by only the pattering rain, the lapping waves, and the muted fireworks. Still deeply absorbed in whatever he saw, Percy lifted his head slightly to let her arms slip their way past to cradle him, while his hands found their way around her waist to wrap around her in return. Their legs, at first her around him, became him around her, and then became an entangled mess of which the only intention was to maximize bare skin to skin contact. And her oh so soft breasts rubbed against his front, with the heartbeat right above that only the cotton of her shirt apart from his own heartbeat.

And that lasted for, he could not tell if seconds or minutes or hours, until she began to recite a mantra into his chest. For a while, Percy just enjoyed the warmth of her breath on his bare skin ... until curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you saying?" he rumbled when she finally stopped.

"A prayer of thanks." She peered up at him and smiled. "That even if not from our own culture's, is heartfelt enough that I found myself in the mood to speak it."

"Oh? I have something of my own that I think would be appropriate for the moment," said Percy.

"Really?" The weight of her head changed sides as he rose slightly to collect his thoughts. He stared across the room to front of the cabin, and through the window there, watched tiny fireworks flower from far beyond the listing bow of the ship.

"A poem I say it every time I first see you again," admitted Percy. "But … but … I'm having a little trouble remembering how it starts right now. I can remember the middle stanzas, like _here is the deepest secret_, but not the beginning … ugh."

She hummed into his chest, settling in once more. "I'll wait until you do."

And try as he did, he couldn't. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed in thought until … yes. "Art?"

He shifted his fingers, feeling the tee he wore. "Art?"

Eyes still shut tight, Percy slowly but frantically shifted his legs and tightened his arms, but felt only the blanket around him. And when he realized why, all he could do was but try to keep the tears from appearing at his eyes.

And quickly, before all of what he remembered had happened left him, he recited the poem he'd memorized just for her.

"I … I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it … anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling. I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet; I want no world, for beautiful you are my world, my true. And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will sing is always you. Here is the deepest secret that - that nobody knows. Here is the root of the root and the bud of thebudandtheskyoftheskyofatreecalled, called … life, which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide. And this … this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart."

Percy took a deep, shuddering breath. "I … I carry your heart."

And he opened his eyes to find himself facing a series of bunk beds, and wrapped in sheets, and wrapped around nothing but the lost love in his dreams.

"I carry it in my heart."

* * *

A/N: I thought up of the name for this fic this new years (so it's also set at that time, loosely). It's a bit familiar from the famous line from Blade Runner, but in this case it feels … more optimistic than the other example. Still futile, but optimistic. And the actual event of the story is based off of my own dream, just a few days ago.

Because there's nothing like heartbreak to inspire.

* * *

the original poem

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by ee cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

* * *

Posted 1/11/2017


	21. Refrain V2 C1 Fate's Requiem

Version 2 of my only completed work. Version 1 was a little shorter with more grammar mistakes and is thus unnecessary. There are likely some who enjoyed this version more than what is there today. What I find wrong with this version can be seen by the differences between this and the last iteration of _Gambit's Refrain_. Those differences should speak for themselves.

* * *

My story. Not my characters.

* * *

"_Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance." Anna Quindlen_

* * *

Lightly, lightly.

Heel.

Don't forget to breathe. Steadily, steadily, inhale.

To toe.

Exhale.

The tinge of low lying haze dampens everything slightly, colors and sounds. Still, her footstep falls audibly onto the thin sheet of snow that blankets the earth. As careful as her tread is, the minute noises are still distinguishable, even as infinitesimal as the sound may be.

"Out of practice," Artemis scoffs, voice only a heartbeat louder than her movements. But she is out for that very reason. The … for lack of a better euphemism, developments in recent years were not very permissive in allowing her any time for frivolities.

Now, however …

Her next step lands on a camouflaged patch of ice. An involuntary grunt ekes out of her as she skids to the side. She steadies herself too late, and the insides of her right moccasin fills with sopping snow.

Artemis's otherwise gentle expression sours. It isn't as if she is particularly afflicted by the lowered temperature, as a goddess and all. It is, however, uncomfortable, and disagreeable for her footwear to be in such a state. The Huntress swiftly extracts her foot from the mound of snow it landed in, and places it gingerly on a more secure location.

Withdrawing her foot from the moccasin, she perches and bends gracefully over to snatch up the foot wear. Still balanced on her left leg, the goddess gently shakes out the chunks of snow from the shoe. Delicately laying the moccasin down, she slides her foot back in. Her previous foresight pays off: the waterproof layer she added protects the deerskin. The satisfaction of something physical, is, after all, better than the shortcuts of sorcery. As for the cuff of her leggings - they will dry soon enough on their own. The stain of wetness doesn't even show amongst the black fabric.

The moon goddess straightens up and brushes away the sheaf of freshly freed dark auburn hair in front of her left eye to behind her ear. Reconfiguring herself, she presses on undaunted towards the lake.

Traversing snow isn't Artemis's thing. Greece never had a climate that could be considered remotely frosty. There was the more occasional snowfall in Roman territory, but that was a different matter.

The facts are simple - she is a Greek goddess (right now, at least), and is so defined by that pantheon. Specifically hunting in snow is not a skillset she naturally has. And for acquiring it - the relatively few years in Germany, Spain, and France didn't help with learning how to hunt in snow. England was the center of Western Civilization for several centuries longer, but snow there is inconsistent. The United States is the only place where she can traverse in a colder climate regularly. The great expanses of the frontier are much better than any previous civilization. The area of the US nearly matches the entire continent of Europe in size.

The previous centers of Western Civilization lack snowy environments for her to practice the abilities in question. For that matter, also fewer deserts, but that is another topic (partially why she enjoyed hunting jackalopes really - the fresh experience of the hunt in a desert environment). It's up to her to maintain those learned abilities. She is defined by the ancient Greek era, and they knew little of true winter. The beliefs of the fallen Roman empire equally limits her alter ego.

With one final crinkle of snow, she slips off the shore onto the frozen lake, stride smoother than before and just a touch less perceptible by ear. Her gait is comfortable now, and she glides towards the shore of the reservoir. Immune to the bite of the gusting wind, the goddess accelerates as she leaps onto the ice. The leather soles of her moccasins magically smoothen, and Artemis skates forth. Her silver tunic conforms to the swells of her front due to the speed she moves at, while the back flutters behind her like wisps in the air.

It simply cannot stand for her to be unskilled in something she should technically be capable of doing. So she's here now, while she has the freedom to enjoy herself. After all, it's the perfect time.

It's the Winter Solstice, and it's the full moon. Auspicious times. Sure, she's missing the largest party she's ever seen at Olympus right now. A bit late to truly celebrate the victory over Gaia, but she wasn't defeated until long after the summer solstice. So fast forward approximately five months, and that's tonight. The awards ceremony and victory party. This year's solstice is more complex and exuberant too, given the mix of Greeks and Romans in attendance. And perhaps even partially because of two consecutive victories, really, considering the summer previous was the entire deal with Kronos.

Perhaps that is what it's like to be mortal? Everything is a rush, countless major events happening so soon after one another, not even a year's worth of time in between? It used to be decades if not whole centuries that go by without anything catastrophic taking the wheel, but the entire debacle with the giants was resolved within a few months, right after the Titan War.

Anyway, her Hunters are enjoying their time by themselves at Olympus. But Artemis herself prefers enjoying the illuminated night tonight. As much as she loved … no, loves her followers dearly, even a goddess needs time for themselves. Such social events are already a bore, but the one she was attending just now was even worse than usual. The annual meeting just about an hour or two ago was a hellhole of ego-stroking ceremony and transparent accolades.

She can refresh and reset here. Everyone else can have their ambrosia and nectar, their odd mishmash of dancing to different tunes. She'll take in the local chip of wilderness in the city. It's perfect, and it's winter - and oh what a wonderful, what a beautiful, what a gorgeous season it is.

Artemis never tires of winter. Out of the four distinct seasons, it's her favorite. The rain of spring is irritating, even if she enjoys the challenge it presents in hunting. Conversely, the hunt also becomes too simple, though, due to the influx of naive newborns. Summer is fine - just rather average. Not bad, just nothing overly special besides raised temperatures. The colors of autumn are amazing, the hues of the many crunchy leaves as they swirl away in the wind.

But nothing compares to the trickling snow, right now, dancing past her face and down to the earth. The snow is so dynamic, in the way it simultaneously simplifies and complicates the hunt. The imprints everything leaves in snow makes finding trails and tracks easy, yet the crispy snow counteracts that advantage by making every step a challenge to keep silent. The slightest noise, after all, has the potential to warn away suspicious prey in the muted hush of winter.

Sigh … the atmosphere is fresh, revitalizing, invigorating!

After some dallying (see: twirling and pirouetting), she stops at the center of the artificial lake. The blizzard that has kept away the mortals for several days has 'let up', so the constellations and moon above are visible, even in the midst of a great mortal city. Most likely her father is responsible. Maybe she'll thank him later. For now, she'll take in the beautiful moonlit expanse of a winter wonderland.

Looking up, though … another thing she loves are the hypnotizing puffs of air from her breath. It's not as intricate as the smoke of sacrifices, but nonetheless enchanting after its own fashion. She can't control the lilting tendrils of offerings, but she can manipulate her exhales to create fascinating shapes that hang in the air.

Nonetheless, she leaves the traceries she's created, planting her foot to push o-

CRRKK.

A massive groan reverberates, and the ice shudders. The goddess of the moon freezes in place, a statue mid dance in the center of the body of water.

She knows the sound well - the tell-tale crack of unstable ice. She can never forget it. One of her Hunters had died because of it more than a millennium ago. A river the group crossed appeared frozen, but one misstep and the girl had been swept underneath the surface of the ice and away by the fast moving current underneath the surface. They'd retrieved her, even been able to get her breathing again. But her Hunter had never woken. Left in a coma, brain dead and unresponsive. The ninth death within her enclave. Rather mem- rather, rather memorable because it had been when she'd begun (infrequently) initiating new Hunters to her core group to keep their numbers … level.

The flash of thought passes, and Artemis pales as the creaking sound continues again at an even greater volume. Before she can react, the ice fragments beneath her. She flounders, toppling as her feet submerge. She desperately tries to move forward to stabilize, but the sudden movement only causes the ice before her to rise. As her movements further unbalance the platform of ice she's on, her disproportionate weight causes the ice to tilt. It's as if a slippery hill is growing in front of her, intent on sending her flailing back into the icy lake.

A snap glance to the side makes it evident that there is little around to help her out of her predicament. As her thighs completely sink into the numbing water, she's considering abusing her powers to get herself out. But it is utterly humiliating to do so, even with no witnesses around. Using her powers to escape from something as simple as falling through ice? Her own conscience will torture her for decades, even centuries. So she panics. However futile, Artemis's hands instinctively attempt to find purchase somewhere, anywhere, to be foiled by the uncompromising ice.

The choice to teleport away before falling in is denied to her, though, when the lake abruptly ceases to swallow her. Instead, like a new wave swallowing the riptide, the arctic waters shove her away, vomiting her back onto the ice in a crawling position.

The goddess instantly scrambles to her feet. She cannot allow herself to be completely off balance and so off kilter. Yet her sluggish limbs betray her, and she falls once again.

Before her face plants itself painfully onto the (mostly) frozen lake surface, a pair of stable hands locks around her waist, preventing further loss of her dignity. But in the next second, she finds proper footing and claws her way out, spinning away. A bow of purest silver is already in her hands, the string twanging back and forth. The arrow it once held is airborne, long gone from its nocked position.

"Shit!" the boy who'd steadied her yelps. At such close range, the arrow seems to have passed cleanly through his side. Only a flesh wound. Either her aim is debilitated by the cold, or he dodges fast enough to redirect potentially lethal hits somewhere safer. "What in Hades was that for?"

"Don't -" the word is abruptly bitten off as Artemis bends over to try to catch a proper breath. The shivering makes such difficult, but she gets enough oxygen soon enough. She rights herself, dismissing the bow she'd summoned back into the ether.

"Touch me…" she finishes awkwardly, in a hiss that warbles away as she realizes who the boy - no, the man - is before her. It explains why her clothes are dry again without her behest, at the very least.

"No need to try and push me into the water too," replies Percy Jackson, green eyes rising to meet her own. She inspects the damage she caused - only to see smooth, unmarred flesh through a hole in the fabric of his shirt - he's already completely healed from the damage she inflicted. "I was just trying to help, uhm, miss."

For a moment, she's taken aback. The goddess's mind races as she tries to understand how one of the undisputed heroes of Olympus doesn't recognize her.

"Uhm … ?" He pauses, cocking his head like a curious cat. "I was trying to get a name there."

Artemis awkwardly realizes she's been staring into the depths of the sea green eyes, and turns sharply away to the side. The pieces of the puzzle of why he doesn't recognize her come together. Her eyes at the current moment are blue, in honor of the blue moon just the previous month. To better enjoy the skies, she's eliminated the glow from her body. The currently dim illumination probably makes her auburn hair appear a purple or black shade. Even her current form also looks several years older than the usual age she appears as (her intentions before her … mishap, was to take advantage of the reach of longer limbs while skating on the ice).

That, and she also remembers the first time she met him. The Son of Poseidon isn't the brightest bulb, even if he is now wiser than that time before. And maybe … her cheeks flush in embarrassment … maybe because the boy (no, man) didn't expect a goddess to fall into a lake.

She decides it's better to pretend to ignore his question until she can find a response for it. To distract him, she asks a question. "Why are you not at the celebration?"

"How do you know about -" Percy begins askancely, but then his jaw slacks as realization dawns in his vivid eyes. "Oh. You're not mortal." He facepalms. 'Herp derp, I'm dumb. How else would I have got hurt? I thought you accidentally ripped a hole in my shirt while trying to stand or something."

"Clearly." She stands to her full height - still somewhat shorter than he - and they regard each other awkwardly. Conversation wasn't exactly flowing … "Well?"

"Oh - question, right, right. I left right after all the awards," mutters the Son of the Sea, "Wanted some quiet time. Annabeth and I -" A look that she can't quite interpret fast enough flashes across his face. "Well, nevermind - Annabeth is showing off her work to the rest of the Seven, so I slipped out."

Oh. Artemis recalls that the Daughter of Athena is actually responsible for rebuilding Olympus - it feels like it's been much longer since those first few months after the Titan's assault on Olympus, and before the shut down by Zeus. Her work is admittedly excellent, even if she isn't at the palace very often. Personally, the goddess very much likes the salad bar, though she can do without the now even greater amount of statues of her brother.

Though, she supposes, more statues of Apollo on and about everywhere is well worth him being gone.

"Back at you, then. Why're you down here?" Percy frowns. "Whoever you are. You still haven't given me your name."

"Luna," Artemis says, after a moment's consideration. She's unsure where she's going with that response, giving a false name. But she continues down the rabbit hole nonetheless. Well, regardless, she has to commit to it now. "And for the same reason."

She's at a loss for what to do next. Beside them, the ice freezes over once more. It's relatively fast (being ice and all), and the two watch the process quietly. But when it's over, the pause in the conversation extends several fractions too long, and so she turns around to leave. She … she wants to talk with him? She feels as if she wants to talk to him - but she has no idea how to. What to do about males - her past is working against her. Naught to do but leave. At least, until …

"Hey, Luna. Why not hang out and talk a bit?" the Son of the Sea asks out of the blue. There's a tingle, and she sense that he reached to grab her shoulder, but hesitated before touching her. It seems he is as honorable and chivalrous as ever, remembering her earlier 'request.' "Plenty of time and space to share, both of us not being at the party and all. And … and why not meet someone new, make new friends?"

Meet someone new? Ha. But as he is willing … well, why not? There are some questions she's curious to hear the answers to. She walks on, answering, "Let us find a more comfortable venue first."

But before she can move further, Percy actually places his hand on her shoulder. At her reflexive turn and glare, he smiles nervously and quickly lets go. "Sorry, it's just that you're heading towards fragile ice." He move past her and nudges the ice in front of them, which groan and crack in response. "How about I take point?" the demigod suggests.

She hesitates, looking down at the path to the shore she intended to take. There's no obvious cracks, yet to ignore the obvious more experienced person would be irrational (as just so well proved by Perseus). She nods and steps back.

When Percy bypasses her to take lead, she sees in her peripherals just the hint of a grin on his face. Artemis doesn't understand why, but nonetheless trails after him as he guides her safely off the ice. Besides a few warnings of where not to step, there's no discussion. The lack of speech is heavy and oppressive, and all other noises amplify by a thousand. The rush of ichor pounds in her mind, and the crunching of Percy's steps (and hers echoing right after) as they transition back to snow is deafening.

She better get good answers for this.

Even though they've reached the shore, her companion continues on. The hero, native to New York by her memory, should be far more familiar with the park than she is, so she follows without a word of protest. It isn't long, perhaps another four minutes, when they arrive at a zone full of park tables. Artemis half nods in thanks when Percy clears the snow from the nearest table with a sweep of his arm for her to sit unfettered. The gesture is unnecessary, but there is no reason to deny his courteousness.

Artemis accommodates herself as the Son of the Sea clears a spot for himself opposite of her. She continues to occupies herself with finding the sweet spot to sit in comfortably while he settles into place. However, When all corporeal distractions are dealt with, neither of the two speak up. Despite her investment in the matter, Artemis isn't in a hurry to be the one to initiate conversation. So, in the meantime, she regards the hero with more depth (of which she is sure he is also doing, judging by his own curious gaze).

Percy's matured. On the surface, he's wearing more formal clothing. He looks composed, even handsome in the light blue buttoned shirt, and the khakis look well fit. He's still wearing sneakers like every other teenager, but it works well. She assumes some child of Aphrodite helped a lot. There's also a new depth to his eyes, slightly more distant in his own musings. The gray streak in his hair is gone, but he seems to carry an even greater weight on his shoulders.

Eventually he speaks up. "I feel like you probably know a bit about me already - since you recognized me, and all." It's almost cute (even if completely lacking in formal conduct) how he ruffles the back of his head, sheepish and humble. "But let me introduce myself properly. Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon. Though feel free to call me Percy."

He extends his hand to her. After assessing it for a moment, she shakes it. "Luna … Luna Anson."

"Where from?" he asks.

"New Rome. Legacy," she makes up, unsure of where she's going with this.

"Really?" Percy's eyes do another flickers over her body once again. She resists the urge to turn him into a canine of some sort. "No service?"

"What?"

"Service. Y'know-" he pulls up the sleeve on his left arm, and she sees the brand on his arm. Trident, SPQR, a single tally line. Oh, right. But who is she to remember how some rigid Roman society works? Evidently, Luna. Artemis's desire to polymorph him fades away.

"There were certain medical issues when I was younger that I'd rather not talk about." Is that enough of an excuse? "So I wasn't allowed to be recruited into the legion."

"Ah. Sorry for asking," he says, "But legacy, huh? Of whom?"

"Jupiter." It's certainly a stretch, but she technically is a descendant of Jupiter. Just much more directly than she is implying at the moment.

"So was that a lightning bolt you hit me with earlier then?" asks Percy, smirk playing across his lips. "You have amazing reflexes for someone who's never been in the legion." When she opens her mouth to respond, he quickly interrupts. "No worries about that - I'm fine, and my bad for scaring you."

He hadn't even seen her shoot her bow? No wonder he failed to recognize her. "No, just some sorcery." More deflection of the truth. The ability to summon a bow out of the mist and shoot arrows of moonlight _is_ Mist manipulation, which is the definition of sorcery. "Still, I must apologize for wounding you."

"No biggie, no biggie." Percy repeats his earlier sentiments, and points to his exposed, unmarred flesh. "Healed fine, so no problems."

"Then, apologies for damaging the shirt." At that apology, he does react, paling to match the color of their environment more closely.

"Oh. Um, whoops? That might be a bit more of a problem, 'cause I kinda borrowed this from a friend." Artemis cocks an eyebrow, wondering if she knows who the actual owner of the shirt is. The Son of Jupiter, perhaps?

"Let me attempt to make up for it then." She leans over the table. Hovering her hand just above the hole, she focuses. It's a small and simple fix, so it's well within her abilities to fix, even if 'clothing powers' are not within her domain. When she removes her hand, it's as if she never shot him. Hopefully the other side also fixed itself, provided she really did power the arrow completely through him.

"Thanks, Luna." His smile is excessively grateful to an astonishing degree, and she again surprises herself when her cheeks color and her lips curl upwards a bit in return.

A beat passes.

"So what brings you brought you to Olympus then?" he continues, before stammering. "Not - not that I'm trying to say that you aren't important enough or anything. Just that … just that I thought only those part of the war was invited."

Artemis rolls her eyes. "All of New Rome would never miss a party this big." She's just assuming things at the moment, but she does remember that Rome did enjoy their festivities overly so.

"Well, considering … this," Perseus gestures around them. "I think you're missing the party right now."

Ah. The implied question stops her short, and she looks for her answer in the moon hiding behind the bare branches of the trees. "I don't enjoy big social events."

"Then why did you come at all?" Again, the person she remembers as a somewhat dimwitted child surprises her with an insightful question.

"I wanted …" What to say? "I wanted to see the heroes."

"I guess that makes sense," Percy muses. "I guess you couldn't have met many because you're a civilian. But why so interested?"

"You guys saved the world. Twice, in your case. Is that not reason enough?" Artemis doesn't know where she's pulling all these responses from, but he seems to accept all of them them rather readily.

"What makes you think I've done it twice?" She almost sighs at his continual curiosity.

"Rumors and stories travel fast. Is it true you denied immortality after the Titan War?" The goddess already knows the answer, but she needs to get the conversation on her track.

"So you've heard that too? Damn." Percy's lips tighten, and he looks as to be weighing his response. "Yep." Percy finally answers, popping the p. He traces something in the snow covered part of the table. She follows the lines, but it's unclear as to what he's drawing.

"Why?" His refusal is something she can't figure out. No other demigod has ever denied eternal life.

She glances back to his face, and their gazes lock. And he looks … exhausted. Far too exhausted, in fact, for an eighteen year old. "I ask that myself sometimes."

She must look confused, because Percy stops fidgeting to explain. "There are some other reasons, especially as of recent times, but I suppose I can tell you the big one. So you know the prophecy, right? For what happened last summer?"

Artemis isn't sure where Percy's going with this, but she's willing to sit through any explanation at this point, no matter how long winded, to understand. "Yes. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call, etc."

"Was there some prophecy in your Siba-whatcha-ma-callit books that talked about you guys taking down Mount Othrys?" Percy continues.

"Just a few lines about the stars falling," admits Artemis. Even the gods keep track of prophecies, and she has the advantage with the god of prophecies as her brother. Or, had. "And Sibylline is the right term for it."

"Well, there was one about me that you probably didn't hear about, even if you know about my other … accomplishments, since you're Roman and all." Yeah, totally. "At the same time Jason took down the star guy- Khios, or was it Krios? Met him in Tartarus, I think." The demigod trails off, then shakes his head. "Anyways, there was a prophecy about 'a half blood of the eldest gods' reaching 16 years old that defined my life. Olympus to preserve or raze. I won't ever forget it." Percy gazes off into the distance. "Athena asked me the exact same question you did. Literally right after the battle. Well, after the ceremony that was after the battle."

Oh. Artemis hadn't seen any of that confrontation - she'd went straight to checking up on her Hunters herself. Which … hadn't gone very well. The goddess focused back on him as he continued to speak.

"At the time, I knew for certain. I wanted to live life. Spend time with my friends, like a normal teenager. Have a relationship." His eyes cloud, farther away from her than the physical incarnation of the moon from earth. "I was finally free of the Great Prophecy. I don't suppose you understand what that's like? All that pressure? And then, poof - all of it, gone?"

"No, I wouldn't." She's been the subject matter of quests before, even the recent one when she'd lost … when she'd lost Zöe. But to have the entire fate of Olympus resting upon her decisions? That is the gift, and curse, reserved specifically for mortals.

"So tell me what you know of the Prophecy of Seven," Percy prompts, looking at her directly again.

"Did I not already demonstrate knowledge of the prophecy?" Artemis articulates. "And how will that help in this conversation? What does it have to do with my question?"

"Just trust me."

Artemis opens her mouth to retort nastily - then, stops when she realizes that she does. That she does trust him. So, the goddess does what he asked. "_Seven half-bloods shall answer the call / To storm of fire, the world must fall / An oath to keep with a final breath / And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death._" She recites. "One of the few full prophecies decipherable in the Sibylline Books."

"So you Romans have had that prophecy for centuries. No, millenia, right?" At her nod, he resumes. "But we got that literally an hour after I'd finished the one involving me."

Artemis does her best to look surprised. None of this information is new to her, but it is a decent review. "Your point is?"

"Well, how much of it was really my choice that I didn't become immortal?"

The question hangs in the air. But… "Wait. How did you get from the prophecy to there?"

Percy, in a baffling and ambiguous mix of pain and sheepishness, smiles. "Sorry. My train of thought kinda went from A to Z with no stops in between there. I blame ADHD." His smile fades. "How do I explain...? So, there I was, right after the end of the first prophecy, thinking my life is set to be wonderful. Mom and Paul getting on brilliantly, Annabeth is as great as ever, and camp's improving." Now his face sours. "Then this prophecy I've just learned of a few months ago, something actually predicted two thousand years ago, takes away eight months of my life." It's at this point, when he takes a deep breath and clenches his fists (likely subconsciously), she finally understands the point he's trying to make. "Her Majesty Hera decided it's best for me to lose almost a year of what by all means should be some of the best times of my life."

It's now that she understands his point, and his pain. Because it does take a few seconds for her to really get why he sounds so devastated by this, and when she does, it's startling. Moreover, she can only understand, but she just cannot comprehend.

Artemis realizes, and understands that Percy feels cheated. He's lost precious time that he could have spent with loved ones.

But she can't comprehend it, though, because her time isn't limited. It's a unique sensation that she'll never be able to experience. She's immortal - a year is nothing to her, and even if she loses a few decades, it won't matter much. All her companions are … immortal, so there's really no time limit. A … limit, yes, that she's all too aware of … but she has to focus on Percy now.

Artemis searches for something to say, anything. Because Percy's now despondent look tugs at her heartstrings, but there are no consolations to give. Generally 'Great' Prophecies have taken at least a few decades if not more to come true, and in his case both happened practically on top of each other.

"Makes me wonder what would've happened if I'd chosen to become a god. Or if it was really a choice in the first place, you know?" His smile is wry. "Don't suppose that answers your question?"

"You told me to trust you earlier, but I'm still not seeing the connection. What is the relevance of all this other information?" What was the point of all that? She feels she knows what point he is trying to make, but his delivery is lacking.

"Sorry, sorry. I know I'm not being very clear - I'm not really good at explaining." The demigod sighs again. "I've thought things through before, but it's really hard to put into words. The things I just talked about is related, but not really on point. Just … alright. I know my original reasons. My question is, do it really matter?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Artemis still can't find the connection, and is getting frustrated by his lack of ability to convey his feelings properly. But she can't get enough of how genuine he's being, expressing his soul to her, despite her technically being an outright stranger to him.

"I was destined to be part of the Seven. If I was a god, I couldn't have been. There are only two things to consider, then," Percy recounts. He holds up a single finger; his eyes are haunted, staring into her soul. "Either I had the choice, and could've screwed over the world by not been part of the quest or something. Or -"

Before he can raise his other finger, Artemis pieces it together and finishes his sentence. "-or you never really had a choice. You were never going to accept godhood."

"Now you see," Percy concludes. "I was doomed to not accept, and then go through all the schist that Hera would put me through right after. My choice to not accept didn't even matter, and there was no fate I was defying. It was inevitable that things would happen the way they did. Like, is there any other way that I can see this?"

The logic is … admittedly sound.

"It isn't even like the war against the Titans, which was since World War II. That, I can take. But this Prophecy of Seven, which I originally thought I never had to deal with in my lifetime, ends up to be two thousand - _two thousand - _years old, and dictates my near death. Though, I guess it was fated that I would live, eh?" The boy laughs bitterly, jaded by his life experiences. "And all the things I've had to deal with, that everything I've suffered through, and" - he swallows - "and am suffering through was, is, going to happen no matter what. I was always going to choose to remain mortal."

"So why in Hades would my choice matter?" His last question comes at a surprise, an abrupt end to his tirade against what wrongs him.

She takes a moment to relish what he's said before answering. "Why are you telling me this? We've just met." Not exactly, but her point still stands. He doesn't know her personally, even if he 'knows' 'Artemis.'

The hero shrugs. "You asked." Then he leans back, and the goddess blinks in surprise as she realizes they had both leaned in, so invested into their discussion. "And I guess, as sad as it is, it's so much easier talking to someone you don't even know well about these things. Sort of like a psychologist? No, a psychiatrist. Gotta pay money to talk about the stuff screwing with your head with a stranger rather than friends and family."

Artemis frowns. This is the hero whose fatal flaw is toted to be loyalty? "You have not even talked about this with your friends?"

"What am I supposed to tell them? Oh, what do you think would have happened if I wasn't there for the quest?" Percy snorts. "The entire thing was bad enough already."

"Not even your girlfriend?" Artemis never had that type of a relationship herself, but she knows that this is normally the stuff you can share with someone in that close position.

This time he outright laughs at her, though she doesn't feel the inclination to transform him into a creature for some reason. "Oh, that's even better, Luna. Let me just ask Annabeth what she thinks about me never getting together with her. Especially with what's been going on. Abandoning her, after, after everything, after all we've gone through together. Not being there with her in Tartarus. Great idea that would be."

She didn't think of that. "Well … what do you expect for me to do for you?"

Percy's stare penetrates through her, and she feels like he's known exactly who she is during the entire charade. "I expect to … hear a different perspective."

Artemis shudders, and she bundles in slightly, discomfited by his frankness. Enough for Percy to notice. "Are you cold? Damn, I left my jacket at -"

She cuts him off. "I'm fine. Forget what I can do already?" She's not feeling even a chill, but it's probably better to pretend to be more sensitive to the weather to be more believably mortal. That, and she does favor the white jacket she conjures before her. Snow combat camouflage pattern, a hood that has the perfect amount of room for her hair, loose enough sleeves to pull her bowstring back fully without restriction. And it complements her appearance. She quickly slips it on, and looks to Percy to find him standing.

"Let's keep moving, shall we?" He suggests as he stretches his muscles, hands extending to the skies. "To keep warmed up and not stiff. I've heard walking helps with thinking, too."

It's not really an issue for the goddess, but she falls into step next to him as they wander the paths. The walk is less hurried than before, a passive and relaxing stroll. She feels content to remain silent as she contemplates things, and she can barely hear her footsteps anymore. She's knows that she's still making some noises, but her tread is for the moment nigh undetectable because she's disguising it with Percy's crunching about.

And then he prompts her again. "Well?"

"… Give me more time to think," she whispers into the air.

"No problem." Artemis perceives that his focus is no longer locked onto her and now elsewhere. His presence is now not so much less pressuring as … comfortable. How strange.

She looks up towards the heavens, and takes in the full sphere in the sky that has defined her existence for millennia. As brilliant and as intoxicating as ever.

But she's distracted when Orion shines brightly, peeking out over the buildings. Her jaw clenches. It's far more distinct than the the other constellations. An absolute insult. She wants to tear those stars out of the fabric of the skies. So many of her Hunters, dead because of the atrocities that giant committed. Celyn … Naomi … Phoebe.

If Percy is right, were their sacrifices meaningless? She had focused all her attention on watching over them from Delos, but that had, rather than reassure her, only caused her torment. She wasn't able to protect or save any of them - only watch them die. Her treasured companions, most of them who had been with her for over a millenia, departed to a realm she would never be able to visit with good conscience. And, if Percy's point of view was right, all of it would have happened no matter what.

That day so many had fallen fighting in league with the Amazons, she had nearly gutted Apollo. So much of the Giant War was his fault. Unlike their father, she wasn't unreasonable enough to blame him for appointing a new Oracle of Delphi. But what she could accuse him of was being an arrogant, flamboyant, and utterly inane asshole who'd succumbed to the honeyed words of a politician. And that had led to the death of her followers, her few and far between companions.

The key word is was. Artemis is clueless in regards to his whereabouts, and it's probably better that way. For her twin.

She won't accept that her followers were destined to die. She can't accept that her followers were destined to die. Finally, she speaks. "So … in a nutshell, you think everything is predetermined?"

"What else _can _I believe?" The hero mutters bitterly.

"But does that truly invalidate your purpose behind your decisions?" asks Artemis.

Percy stops walking abruptly. They're not too far off the water again. "What does it matter how I feel if my choices are already made?"

The goddess's cessation of movement is more fluid. She leans against an ancient maple tree to face him properly. How to go about this …? Oh, wait. "What did you ask for instead of immortality?"

"I'm not seeing where you're going with this." Percy's look is full of doubt.

She rolls her eyes. Typical male hypocrite. "How about you trust me this time?"

"Fair enough." Percy cedes, and he ploomphs down onto the pile of snow next to the tree, next to her. "I asked for all the gods to recognize all of their children. Couldn't just let everything happen again, y'know? Kronos - Saturn, is Kronos Saturn to you? - Saturn had so many demigod followers only because the gods didn't do that before. Though I guess that was fated to happen too, eh?"

"And why do you believe the gods would do that?" It's another answers she's been searching for, and she wonders if the answer will be just as … interesting.

The demigod's shrugging displaces the snow around his arms. "Gods can change."

Never mind. She chuckles in a self-deprecating manner. His response is indeed interesting, and also completely wrong. "No, they can't."

"What?" Percy bolts upright. "They've kept their promise. They swore on the River Styx!"

"Well, for one, so what if they swore on the River Styx? That promise doesn't mean anything anymore. When's the last time a god has been punished for breaking a pact on the Styx?" It's a rhetorical question, but she's sure he's thinking of her lieutenant right now. Thalia had been the one to incur the wrath of Hades. Not to mention- "You were born despite the Big Three's oath. Considering that of all things, your faith is truly remarkable."

"Then - then was all that for nothing?" The blizzard outside the park visibly swells, and all of the ice over the reservoir fractures from the churning waters beneath them.

Artemis attempts to placates him. "That wasn't really my point. Some of the gods are definitely too honorable not to keep their oath." She wasn't planning on breaking it anytime soon, although she didn't actually have children for the oath to work in the first place. "The point I'm trying to make is that gods don't change. My f- ancestor, Zeus, has been the source of just about every issue in Greek mythology because of his inability to keep his libido from acting up, and he was first to break the non-childbirth oath. He's certainly going to be one of the first to forget about the new oath you made them swear. And why do you think there was a Greek and Roman divide in the first place?"

"Well, isn't that proof in the first place that the gods can change?" She's losing him.

"No. If that were true, then there would only be Roman demigods, and there would be no Greeks," Artemis explains, "If there was just a smooth change, then there would be no distinction. The two aspects of the gods are completely separate, even if similar."

"Well, what does that have to do with whether my fate could be that I'll be turned into some guinea pig on a tropical island and that I can do nothing about it?" Huh. Now that she's imagining it, she's sure he will make a very cute pet.

"Simply that if you believe in fate, you wouldn't believe that gods can change." She sighs, and pulls up a foot to 'sit' on while still leaning on the tree. "The path of mortal lives are set, and the gods are the same for all time."

"That doesn't help with whether everything will happen no matter what I do about it!" Percy whines, scooting closer to also lean against the maple.

_There is never only __**one**_ _way! That is why there are __**three**_ _Fates, not one. Is this not so?_

The words ring out in her mind, and she acts upon the inspiration. "Well, how about this? Why do you think there are three Fates?"

"Wait … I forgot about that!" Percy jumps in place, like he's been shocked by jumper cables. He stares at her again. "But … how did you know about that?"

Oh, skata, Artemis remembers that he'd been there too. "Know about what?"

"No way that that's common information," accuses Percy, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Skata skata skata skata. She says the first thing that comes to her mind, as quickly as possible. "Not in the legion, remember? I've spent so much of my time in the library reading that they've hired me as an assistant there. I've found lots of obscure knowledge there over the years. Where the hell did you learn about that?"

"Huh. I guess…" He relaxes again, slouching back to the snow. "So, you're saying that there was always the option that I could have screwed over the world, then?"

"Or, Perseus, maybe you still would've been sent to New Rome and lost your immortality the same way you lost the curse of Achilles. Or the prophecy might've actually been about some other demigods in the far future, because there weren't seven suitable heroes. Or your Oracle could've given a completely different Great Prophecy, and the Prophecy of Seven would have been saved for another generation. Who knows? The past is set. You cannot change what happened." Just like how she accepts that there is no way to bring back her Hunters. Over and over again.

She's never lost so many at the same time before. She has yet to recruit any new members either - the pain is still too fresh. Not to mention it had been most of the fresh recruits that she'd just been getting attached to that had died during the Titan War. Oh, she can't lose her cool now of all times - she forces herself to continue. "Your choice did make a difference."

A laugh chokes its way out from the half-depressed man. "So you're telling me I could have screwed everyone over. Or became a god, and left everyone I knew. That's actually comforting, in a strange way. Thanks." Percy collapses back onto the snow.

"Well, I can offer more than that," Artemis blurts. Relevant facts bloom out of hiding within her mind. "You're so very concerned about prophecies? Have you forgotten the Oracle of Delphi is hidden away again?" And that her brother is missing, out of the way and probably not out of Zeus's doghouse for a few centuries? "And The Prophecy of Seven was the only undamaged prophecy left unfulfilled in our available pages of the books. All the remainders are just indecipherable scraps of paper. Your worries are … unsubstantiated, with how everything is now."

Percy's beaming (if still crooked) smile causes her to blush. "Dam, Luna, where have you been all this time? I could've used hearing that months ago!"

"It's nothing." She didn't quite receive the answer she'd originally been looking for, but she's happy with what she's heard. "But … then why did you deny immortality?"

The demigod deflates. "I guess I owe you the answer." The answer he gives next is spoken far too quickly and quietly, but she hears it anyway. "I didn't want to leave Annabeth - though that's going wonderfully now." But then his contagious smile returns, a bit forced but honest nonetheless. "But no, that was definitely not nothing. Gods be damned, I feel … free, now!" he exclaims. "I owe you. Something you want? Anything I can do in return?"

"No, no, what? It's fine," she protests. She can't conceive of anything that the Son of the Sea can do for her - he's already answered the questions that have been brewing in her mind for over a year. Also, Artemis risks tying herself in knots if she becomes 'attached' like this. He thinks of her as Luna - an expectation for future confrontations will be … in a word, convoluted.

"C'mon, Luna. There's at least _something_," he says, sitting up properly again. "Nothing at all? Really?"

"Nothing," she insists.

"Well, I guess I could always just make this a night to remember," Percy cedes.

"Wha-?" Her confusion distracts her momentarily, so she's cut off, completely unprepared when a snowball smacks her in the cheek. She sputters, and tries to speak again, but she's cut off again when another chunk of snow glances off her stomach.

For a moment, she's once again clueless as to what to do next. But even as the Son of the Sea dashes away for cover, he throws another that smacks her leg.

Right. That's not going unanswered.

The snowball fight that ensues is surprisingly fair, though there probably isn't a standard for a snowball fight between a single goddess and single hero. Regardless, projectile weapons are child's play to her, and it takes very little to adjust to the trajectories and falloffs of the average snowball. But while her shots land consistently almost immediately after her first few trials, Percy gathers snow with his powers, and thus is far faster at generating ammunition.

It's … exhilarating. The Son of the Sea lobs practically a dozen snowballs at a time, his abilities helping him form and launch multitudes of volleys. His ability to aim at a moving target is horrid, though, so his misses land in clumps nearby. Those in turn are easy to pick up and reuse for her purposes, so the action rarely ceases. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much sinc-. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much, and there's an uncharacteristic grin on her face as they run around like children.

At one point their match moves back away from the reservoir, and into the more wooded area, where the runs between the natural cover changes the entire battle. A few times she climbs the trees, where it's simple to use her vantage point to rain down barrages at Percy before being forced back down to resupply. When they transition to one of the playgrounds, the verticality of the environment forces an entirely different approach to their contest.

But the most impressive battleground is created when she chases down the hero to the shore once again. After pelting him in the back with a few shots, Percy laughs and collapses, kneeling to the ground. Before she can take advantage, though, he sweeps his arms high above his head. In a completely frivolous use of his innate powers, he somehow sculpts the entire landscape into a labyrinthic series of corridors and gates and corners. There, it's a hunt, alternating cat and mouse. One particularly spectacular tussle happens when she retreats into a corner, thinking it safe. Instead, the walls fall in on her as her opponent ploughs straight through them, whooping as he does so.

The second time that happens, she counter-ambushes him by dodging and planting his face into the next wall, before taking off laughing.

Eventually they're back at the lake, thoroughly worn out. At least, she assumes Percy is worn out, as he retreats over the ice to create a wall she doesn't dare attempt to bypass. After a minute of a few half-hearted shots, he interrupts the tense standoff. "Truce?"

"Truce," she agrees. But she can't resist sending one last missile at his face as the ice wall comes down. It splatters into slush right across the bridge of his nose, and Artemis giggles when he coughs in shock.

He wipes his face clean. "I deserved that."

"Yes, you did," she assents. She steps onto the frozen lake surface once more. "I enjoyed myself, though, Perseus, so thank you. And how do you know how to control snow?"

"You're welcome." As she makes her way to him, the sheet cracks, and she slips, falling into his arms once again. Artemis blushes uncontrollably - she should have recovered her balance, but their snowball fight exhausted her more than she could have believed. Or perhaps that was their conversation that did that?

"You're welcome for that too," Percy chuckles. "Again. But let me just make sure that doesn't happen again." He lets her distance herself again as a look of concentration passes over his face. The ice reforms, to which he comments, "No sudden movements and we should be fine. And - and this is just something I picked up. Better than some other things I've tried to control." Percy shakes off the remaining snow from his clothing, "Going back a bit, though. I have a question for you now."

"Hm?" They're face to face, only a foot apart. He looks … different, and Artemis isn't sure what makes it so. Something with the eyes … or the clothing … something.

"If my choices do matter, then why can't gods change?"

The question turns her world upside down.

"Let's see about that," she whispers. Her blood is molten, and the vapor from her breath pulses with the dancing moonlight.

"Wha?" Percy leans in, turning his ear closer. "Didn't catch that."

The steam of their breath mingles. Gradually, with her silver eyes locked on his green eyes, she discards her jacket and lets it fade into nothing. The ichor is rushing far too hot within her veins. The material of her tunic flashes in her light as the goddess brings up her arms. He doesn't move, locked into place as she gently lays her hands upon his shoulders. "Dance with me."

He's frowning, and his brow furrows. "Bu-"

She interrupts. "The others are having their dance. Why shouldn't we?" The hero still hesitates, so she speaks again. "This is my favor. My request."

"Pushy, pushy," Percy snarks, but the hint of a smile is back on his lips. His hands find their way to her hips, oddly reminiscent of how he'd prevented her from falling. "Alright then, Moonbeam."

She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as they begin to dance.

There's a comfortable gap between them as they sway to and fro. No music, but it's not really necessary. Not for Artemis. She's too busy absorbing what's happening. The even more vivid skies, the shimmering play of moonlight across the ice, the serenity of the (somewhat disturbed) landscape of snow. The unique mortal she's dancing with.

They don't move very far from where they are, but they do minutely progress away from the shore. Her right hand trails down his chest, where Percy's left seizes it. For a few seconds, their swaying stops as they gauge each other. Then, like he's handling a baby, he grasps her hand and holds it to his chest. His hand cusps hers, only his thumb between her palm and his front. His right hand migrates upwards to her back as she draws closer, her left hand curling back around his neck.

Artemis lays her head on his shoulder, cheek resting cozily by the crook of his collarbone.

There's no space left between them as they resume their dance.

She doesn't care.

For tonight, she's thinking of a world where her Hunters didn't die. That way, she can be happy without feeling guilty. For tonight, she believes that immortals can change. Because even if she knows that they absolutely can't, even though mortals can have a choice, that way she can have this moment.

Tonight, she's doing something different.

She loses track of the time, in a warm embrace and with her mind five worlds away.

But eventually the thunder rumbles. The sign of midnight of the solstice. It's time to go. The goddess extricates herself.

The atmosphere is charged, yet hollow. Percy's smile swims into her vision, and then his lips move. "Keep in touch?"

Artemis smiles back. Fragile and weak, even a touch mournful, but a smile nonetheless.

Oh, such a grand catharsis.

She blinks back tears, nods, then turns her back to leave.

Her footsteps are imperceptible.

* * *

_Author's Note_

This work will ignore everything post Blood of Olympus, besides the concept of Apollo's punishment.


	22. Refrain V2 C2 Mourning's Dew

"_The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to." Carl Sandburg_

* * *

The rain is torrential.

The sky above holds back a tidal wave. However, for all that it contains, it still fails to completely prevent the waters from leaking through. And leaking, as in, letting through a downpour that prevents a line of sight any further than a few yards at maximum, though it's difficult to tell whether that range is dictated by the rain, or the extent of a Hunter aura's glow in the dark. Artemis, however, is inclined to believe the situation is the former, due to her quite vast prior experience.

However, also from prior experience, she can confidently state that nothing of the situation makes sense, for multitudes of reasons. For one, she's in New York, of which such heavy rain is rare. Moreover, it's winter still - the spring showers shouldn't have arrived yet. It should still be snowy. Though, it snowing ten feet behind her, due to the last point. The last point, that renders other points irrelevant, really: her location, beyond being New York, is more specifically within the borders of Camp Half Blood.

Yet a maelstrom of rain punctures through the weather barrier like a barrage of bullets.

What is going on?

She turns to Thalia behind her. "GET INTO THE BIG HOUSE!" She yells. The Huntress is certain that her effort is futile though, in the midst of the oppressively loud splatters and the roaring elements. That thought is confirmed by her lieutenant cupping her hand behind her ear, and the lack of appropriate voice accompanying the movement of the dark lipsticked mouth.

Still, Artemis yells again, but this time also gestures for the Hunters to move towards the main building of the demigod camp. That action gets the message across properly this time, hopefully, judging by Thalia's nod. After some further hand communications, all six of her followers quickly jog off to the left to find Chiron (and adequate shelter).

Her intentions had originally been to arrive much earlier. Well before midnight, at the least. After dinner. But the current time - several hours past 12 AM - serves to show the power of angry weather.

Of monstrous, uncontrollable, weather.

She surmises that the rain that punches through the barrier is not really any better than the sleet outside that falls outside of the boundary. Not even marginally.

The raging blizzard outside Camp Half Blood is not merely isolated to New York - it stretches from where it began near Mexico all the way to Kansas, brushing a swath of snow across the entire eastern half of the United States of America.

When she'd heard Aeolus's forecast, she'd known they wouldn't be able to escape the weather by fleeing west. The travel distance was simply too great from where they'd been; her Hunt would have been bogged down long before they'd left the range of the storm. The closest and best option for shelter was Camp Half Blood, about a day's and change worth of hurried travel away.

Her estimate had been off, and they'd still been slowed down for the past half day - and now that she's arrived, Artemis isn't even sure the current conditions of the camp are better than holing down in some mortal city. She'd come here thinking it would be free of detrimental weather of every sort, not to trade snow for rain.

The rest of the storm-grade clothing that had yet to fail her quickly do so in the new environment. Despite the hood of her silver jacket, the wind-angled rain soaks her raven locks to the point that it feels as if she dunked her head in water. A misstep soaks her boots with groundwater, revealing that the innocent looking puddles are at least two feet deep.

The water level of the canoe lake she bypasses has also definitely risen, and the pier appears to float on the surface of the lake, on the verge of being swallowed by a few more droplets. The flooding of the creek that both feeds and diverts from the lake makes the surroundings of said running bodies of water a swampland. Artemis can only imagine how much worse the creek within the forest is.

Finding her way through is thankfully much simpler than she expects. The older form the Goddess of the Hunt has retained for quite a while now is more ideal for facing the various obstacles in her path, without frivolous divine enhancement. Longer legs, more leverage, and all that jazz - like how she bounds over the muddied earth around the creek and the creek itself, heading for the cabins. Her landing causes a mighty splash that hits up to her thighs, but the black water resistant material of her leggings definitely deals with that better than the prospect of extended exposure from wading through.

Even as tokenly irritating the situation is, however … the weather puts her in an oddly reminiscent mood. It reminds her of the old days, when her father and her uncles were fully responsible for the shifts in nature, and the massive cataclysms that sparked whenever they raged.

But they've calmed and settled over the millennia - so what force is behind this storm? Both of the gods possibly responsible for the sweeping storm, as far as she knew, were denying responsibility. In fact, Father and Uncle Poseidon both seemed at the verge of blows the last time Artemis tuned in to the chatter on the weather radio frequency. The fact that the blizzard is outside both their own direct control and the influence of Aeolus does not settle well with her relatives.

The goddess of the moon weaves between a cabin adorned with drooping poppies poppies and a garishly pink doll house. Before she knows it, she's standing before the doorway of her cabin, its silver light pulsing weakly in the deluge of water. Instinctively, she pushes open the door and enters, ready to escape the tormenting weather.

As Artemis steps in, her aura bathes the room and sheds light unto vaguely familiar furniture. When was the last time she'd been in this cabin? How many times had she even entered here? The silver cabin had always been more a refuge for her Hunters while she undertook more dangerous solo hunts, that she was unwilling to bring her cadre along for. Nonetheless …

Out of the corner of her eyes, she detects a flicker of movement. She turns to it sharply, yet nothing's there. Merely dancing reflections - a play of light that triggers memories best left forgotten.

_Join us, Milady!_

_A copper skinned girl laughs delightedly at her, silver circlet braided in the girl's hair twinkling in the candlelight. Her dark eyes are glittering, singing with joy._

Artemis staggers backwards into the doorframe, freezing in place on the threshold. Oh, her dear lieutenant. No, no, no …

_The others playing cards with her also smile, happy to see their normally reserved and cold leader happy. A redhead, smirking as she tosses down pair; a good-natured groan from the blonde as she folds over her cards; the last cackling as she reveals a winning hand._

_C'mon, Milady! New round._

_Artemis_ _ste_ps forward-

No.

No.

NO.

The vision shatters, and the false Hunters splinter apart into a rich sanguine nothingness.

She pulls away, slams the door shut, and turns to flee. She's too hasty - the door crashes against its frame, but her rigid hand betrays her and refuses to loosen its grip from the door handle. Artemis wrenches her still rigid hand off and dashes away, but the unintentional counter-force pushes the door back open. The door swings ajar, and the rain blows in - more trouble for her Hunters to clean up later.

But the ghosts that escape from their prison and chase Artemis away agitates her far more than any residual concern for her followers.

_I pledge myself to-_

She runs against the rain.

_An quartz crystal stands resolute. She watches with her hunt as tears stain the formation a rich purp- _

The elements makes negotiating the usually clear path upwards far more difficult. She slips every few steps because of slipstreams or loosened soil and stones.

_-tracked it down, Milady. By your will._

Still, Artemis can't escape her recollections. The watershed is fighting against her, pushing her back into the grasp of the vile carnival of past delights turned nightmares.

_SHHH! Quiet, dunce, you're scaring th-_

Her ankle snags, twisting and warping.

_At second glance, it's still nothing. But with a third, it's evident the lump is a young girl, in need of aid. Someone is to die for-_

She is already too far to be able to identify whatever obstacle she injured herself on by the time she realizes she's limping.

_-upid male, ruining the hunt. Enjoy life as a ja-_

But Artemis persists on, hardly aware of the physical pain.

_-ew World, Milady!_

_The Hunt's excited anticipation is contagious, and she can't help but laugh and smile with her crew._

But a leg is giving out on her, she's losing speed.

_Also, the mortals apparently believe your brother is the center of the universe now!_

_Her laugh rings out hearing the report. _

_What else, Ce-_

Both legs, actually. And her arms, and her eyes. She's been run too ragged over the past few days, ensuring her Hunt's safety passing through the storm.

_-st time, my Hunt. Constellations._

_Moans all around, but they gather nonetheless-_

Spent too much of her powers shielding her followers from the worst of the blizzard.

_-ady, why do they fight so?_

_Even I will never understand just how horrible, foolish, and futil-_

She can't stop now. She's not far enough away. She can't stop now. She's not far enough away. She's not- she's not-

_-can see the stars, my lady._

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, n_o, no, no, no, no, don't die, don't die, don't …_

Artemis trips over a sudden ledge she didn't anticipate. Trips, maybe, or her legs have finally decided to give up. She falls, splashing with a whumph unintelligible compared to the endless rain. Her body pinions her arm beneath her, and she submerges halfway into the shallow but overflowing pool of water on the tiled flooring of the mess hall.

_She's dying._

She turns her face sideways and stares across a crack in the ground as far as her glow extends. Her immortal body already begins repairing itself, but her mind - her soul - has no such benefits.

_Be strong for her._

Despite her exhaustion, the goddess struggles to her feet and stumbles to Table 8.

Oh, Zöe. From almost the very beginning of - of everything … the goddess shudders.

And now forever lost to her. Almost 3 millennia of dutiful companionship, to almost having a trusted equal … oh, Zöe …

Artemis fails to swallow an all too violent sob, a half cry of pain she didn't know she had in her, an expression she never thought herself capable of producing.

_The father of all monsters roars, but for all intents and purposes she's not even aware of the sound. Too much of her is preoccupied, sensing each of the deaths of her followers defending Olympus._

_To her everlasting shame and dismay, most of the new recruits perish, along with a none too few amount of the old guard._

She winces as impossible apparitions of her Hunt appear around the table, feasting joyously.

_To the 50th consecutive victory against Camp Half Blood!_

_Around them, the campers glare at the Hunters' celebratory toast._

Pushing herself back, she steadies herself on the benches as she moves away. She can't stay here, at this table. She hadn't expected coming to Camp Half Blood to be such a mistake.

_The world is going to end, we have to go find them! We need to help!_

_They're hunted by ORION! Is your powers fry your brain too?_

_Bonus! Then we get to kill him too! Let's GO!_

_She wants to call out to them - but she's not actually physically present - it's not going to end well - there's no way it will end well -_

She barely makes it back to the head table, collapsing into a seat.

If she could deal with it on Mount Olympus, she can deal with here.

Just need to avoid the danger zones as best as she can. It should be easier to do so here - there should be fewer.

_Screams. So many screams. The sensation of her heart being rent in two, over and over and over and over again as massive arrows do the same to all of her dear sisters within sight._

Oh, Hades below, it still hurt so bloody much.

Artemis's head droops down, and she cradles it roughly with her arms. The rain if anything is even stronger than before, and there's no roof to shelter her in the pavilion. But she can't muster up the energy to protect herself from the storm's deluge.

At least, this way, she can hide her weeping from the world.

This way, she can believe she's still steady enough to go on. That her treacherous memory, filled with poignant aromas and sentimental happiness, is not poisoned. That she is still capable of facing them, that she can still continue. That she's still sane.

She can't sleep. Won't sleep. If she does, she'll actually dream, despite her divine status. Dream about everything, everything that happened, and no nO NO NO NO-

No time for this.

There is a dim light, approaching steadily. It flashes slowly as it passes between the columns that frame the pavilion, alternatively creating silhouettes and shining through to shed light upon the tables.

The goddess sits up straight, despite her muscles' protesting groans - she can't be seen like this. Settling herself, Artemis focuses her eyes through the rain and darkness. The torchlight bobs, and the boy's glasses reflect an intense gold.

"Lady Artemis," Jason Grace greets neutrally, bowing his head respectfully. At least, that what Artemis assumes he says, as she is lipreading in substandard conditions.

The first thing she notices is that despite the rain, the pontifex maximus's clothing is mostly dry. The usual purple Roman t-shirt (despite his defection), with a white trim - probably for status. Jeans, free of water until the cuffs. A careful perusing look reveals the cocoon of air that shields him from the storm. Now it's evident why the torch still burns, even though his shoes are soaked.

Artemis blinks in surprise as an explosive gust smatters droplets on her front. She wipes her face clear, then realizes she no longer feels droplets running down her face. The rain, she looks up to note, has ceased to land in the mess hall. Moreover, the dull all-encompassing roar she'd been desensitized to has been diluted to a mere backdrop. An extension of the The Son of Jupiter's power over the wind, to use it to block the rain - although it seems odd that Jason has no control over the rain itself.

The boy calmly sloshes his way to the tub-sized bronze barrier before the head table, disturbing the wind-stilled water. With a deft stroke, he leans down and clears the basin with a burst of wind, before reigniting it with his torch. The action magically spreads, and in a series of muffled poofs, the other torches along the columns surrounding the mess hall also light in pleasantly warm hues.

"Sorry about the water." Jason moves around the brazier and slides into the seat opposite of her. Artemis shifts a bit, surprised to hear his quiet voice so clearly after so long in the deafening storm. "But there wasn't a better way to make this" - the demigod gestures around them - "happen. But I imagine you would prefer this."

"Yes, thank you." Her words are stronger than she imagined they would be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, half-brother?"

The demigod winces ever so slightly. A bolt of lightning strikes the earth not too far away, and the surrounding flames flicker as the following thunder resounds. "My apologies. Recognizing our relation as half-siblings is simply … odd. But never mind that - I wish to discuss sacrifices to you, Lady Artemis."

The goddess mulls over her words. "I was not … aware of any need for this."

"I've already made all the arrangements with all the other Olympians and othees, and I'm still getting to all the mail and correspondence from even more gods. Hermes even set up a magical mailbox at the Big House just for me. It's so backlogged, even when I take stuff out it refills instantly." Jason's eyes surreptitiously flicker up and down, reading something from her stiff body language. His eyes tighten as he gets to the point. "But even with all that mail, I have yet to receive any form of message from you. And I also couldn't find you at Olympus last solstice, so …"

He trails off, so Artemis rubs the bridge of her nose, almost yawning before she catches herself. She's unsure whether she welcomes the distraction or not, and as moody as she is she definitely can't smite him on the spot. For one thing, Father would definitely be furious with her, along with all the other gods coming to the forefront because of the High Priest's efforts. And again, he was only trying to do his job. It wouldn't be fair for her to attack him when it was only his first approach. Maybe if he came back to annoy her again …? "How did you know I was here?"

"I sensed a god's presence approaching camp. I didn't know it was yours, but my senses woke me up. When I got to the Big House, I found Thalia, and I think you know the rest from there." Jason looks at her evenly. "So, even though I think I know your answer, from your lack of trying to communicate, I believe it best to get your confirmation. Is there any shrine, any sacrifices you want?"

No. She's had enough shrines over the years, and they all turned into places where everyone begged and pleaded to her for things she couldn't or wouldn't fulfill. Artemis can't conceive of why any other immortal would still want such pettiances. Worship is worthless - those who don't believe in the Greek Pantheon will never be converted, and those who do worship already believe in the existence of gods. Worship now served no purpose beyond inflating ego, which was absolutely pitiful in the context of how little worship would be received.

Artemis supposes she can understand minor gods wanting to get a proper taste of worship for their efforts, yet their desires are still pathetic. To be fair, not as pathetic as the other Olympians, who surely should realize the patheticness of their aspirations for grand shrines and sacrifices once more. Though that sentiment is likely giving her 'peers' too much credit.

And … sacrifices? … There have been too many sacrifices in her name already.

Sacrifices made by those too dear. "No."

"That's done with, then," Jason affirms, and Artemis nods. "By your leave?"

The Huntress almost dismisses him on the spot, but a moment of curiosity gets the best of her. Despite fatigue wearing her down to her bones, she asks the question that presented itself from the moment she arrived. "Why is the camp barrier malfunctioning?"

The boy, half ready to leave, grimaces. It seems he expected her to dismiss him, as it is very late in the night. Nonetheless, He settles back into place, sending ripples across the surface of the pavilion's 'pool' once again. "How much do you know about Percy and Annabeth?"

Oh.

Well, skata.

The truthful answer, as of more recent times, is that she knows far more than she should.

So naturally, she lies through her teeth. "Little beyond the obvious. What of them?"

Even through the lens of the boy's glasses, Jason's eyes visibly convey how troubled he is. The tone of his voice is equally exhausted and frustrated. "They've been together for almost two years now, though technically only one with what Hera did to Percy. They had a massive fight, from what Piper told me, but she didn't tell me why. Just that they fought. I do know they've been having some issues recently, butI don't think there was ever anything this major. Hades, I don't even know why Percy and Annabeth were even here to begin with, since as far as I know they're both supposed to be at school. Maybe some camp recruitment?" The Son of Jupiter shrugs helplessly.

Despite her fatigue, Artemis connects the dots, and she's dumbfounded by her conclusion. "The Son of Poseidon is responsible for the blizzard that has been blanketing about half the country for the past few days? Because of a fight with his partner?"

Artemis fails to comprehend how the demigod achieved creating a disaster of such magnitude and scale, let alone his ability to maintain it for multiple days.

Jason cringes. "Well, when you say it like _that_… but essentially, yes. The camp's weather barrier holds back as much as it can, but it's not enough. It's been raining here since the very beginning, and the only people happy about things are the naiads."

"When exactly was this fight?!" Artemis can't recall the last time a demigod pulled off something of this scale. Not even the London Fire or the San Francisco Earthquake are close, compared to the sustained effort this blizzard would require.

"Two days ago. He stormed off to the coast." The Son of Jupiter shifts uncomfortably, clearly wishing to depart more than before. "No one was able to find him the first day, and then no one was willing to try anymore after the weather took a turn for the worse. Even I can't find him."

The goddess's gaze hardens, her silver irises steel. However inadvertently, she's back at one of the few exact locations she's been trying to avoid, places filled to the brim with memories she's doesn't want to remember. The Hunt's normal hunting routes. Olympus. Even Camp Half Blood, despite however little she spent her time at the demigod haven.

But the gods be damned to Tartarus, she's wanted an excuse to see Percy since that night.

Well, then, but also since he'd spontaneously Iris-Messaged 'Luna' two weeks after that night to see how she was doing. Artemis remembers it only vaguely, despite how recent the call was - it had been relatively short, but sweet and engaging. Enjoyable beyond comprehension, really, as the most defining detail she can recall is that she'd been very distracted. She'd needed to revert appearance to what it had been during the solstice, and then spent the majority of the five minute call worrying if Percy would notice anything wrong.

Regardless of the mishap, and how little she remembered of the actual call … Percy's attempt to keep in touch with her had astonished her. She hadn't expected to make that much of an impression in his life - mortal life, especially demigod life, after all, was extremely short. Why would there be any time for such a small moment in his life? He didn't have the time to consider and ruminate over every experience like she did. Mortals burned fast - bright, perhaps, but fast.

Yet he'd taken note of her, and went out of his way to contact her, remembering her name and spending a drachma. A touching move, from a male. Perhaps the act had been something natural to Perseus she'd never known, that he was overly friendly and social and did this consistently with everyone he met. Although she doubted that - nonetheless, even if that was the truth, the boy's - no, man's compassion had been absurdly poignant.

And now, again, perhaps as unintentionally, he'd piqued Artemis's attention, Percy has brought her to him and fulfilled her wishes, even if at a cost she hadn't been willing to pay.

Well, she pays the price right now. And that is all the reason for her at the very least get what she desires. The goddess has a certain male to hunt down.

After a moment's hesitation, she sharply extricates herself from the bench and stalks off towards the end of the mess hall, opposite from where she had arrived. She's rejuvenated enough energy from her rest to move at a steady pace again, even if a bit more sedate after her previous … sprint. She has enough strength for this. Hopefully.

Even if she burns out, it will be worth it.

From behind her, Jason calls. "Lady Artemis?"

"You're dismissed," she states, not even bothering to look back at the boy. She pauses for a moment, staring down the dark hillside that drops off to the coast. She magnifies her aura's light, until it's far brighter than she can ever recall it being before. Then, with a slight intake of breath, she confidently steps past the screen of wind that the Son of Jupiter had placed around the pavilion.

The storm drenches her in a second. Moreover, despite how blinding her radiance felt a step before, it's choked down faster than a speeding arrow. The rain is somehow worse than before - despite her efforts, her aura is about as bright as when she'd entered camp. Perhaps it's a sign that she's approaching the Son of the Sea's location? An optimistic, and, for the moment, unquantifiable hope. It is at best an approximate, though, if her only tactic is to push towards where the storm feels stronger.

But it's the only idea she has right now, besides the general knowledge she received of 'he's at the coast.' It's no doubt impossible to use any conventional form of tracking him down, as any relevant scents and tracks wears away quickly in such heavy rain (not that she knows his scent - not at all, _totally_ telling the truth - didn't memorize any such detail two months ago - that would be _ridiculous_). And the possibility of tracking Percy through the perception of his immortal heritage/powers is also nullified by the rain - now that she's looking for it, Percy's distinct imprint floods her higher senses through the sheer presence within every single raindrop.

Behind her, the torchlight extinguishes.

Now or - now.

Artemis is far more careful on the trip down. It's a challenge to not rush, as there's a good inch or so of runoff that constantly pulls at her feet to drag her faster. But before she knows it, she's at the coast. The culmination of the high tide (not the highest, that was tomorrow with the new moon) and the storm has left little of the beach shore to stand on, and each step sinks deep into the wet sands.

The rain is feels marginally more intense, but for all Artemis knows, she may only be imagining the slight difference in strength. Thus, little to do but choose a direction to explore. She turns west, circling a half worn dune. Another bolt of lightning flashes, and she pauses as the thunder rolls by.

Sighing away the shivers in her spine, the goddess begins to move forward once more. Then, six different alarms blare in her head. Instinctively, she turns around and immediately spots a raven haired, disheveled lump of a human being snoring away right behind her.

Or at least, she assumes he's snoring. She can't hear anything over the dense plitter-platters of rain on ocean and sand.

How … just _how_ … did the campers not find him? If she was feeling fair, she'd recognize that Percy probably hadn't been literally _right there_ _just down from the Mess Hall_ at the very beginning, and that they might've given up on searching for him after the first day, but …

No. Father above, demigods were brain dead idiots.

Artemis stands there above Percy. The moment stretches on as she regards him. However torturous the bullets of water are upon her sore body …

What in Hades does she do now?

…

The demigod is still laying there, murmuring in his sleep. Not only that, but the damned Son of the Sea is effortlessly dry. Truly effortlessly - she has no doubt he's fully out of it, and still demigod remains free from any of the side-effects or consequences of the mayhem he's caused.

…

Holy - BLOODY - FUCK, screw it!

The goddess kicks, left leg swiftly snapping forth like a whip. Her boot connects to his calf hard enough to outright snap the average mortal's bones like a twig.

When in doubt, violence is an answer. Oh, it's not the right one (at least, most of time), but it certainly _is _one. And always oh so satisfactory.

Vaguely, she senses the incoming wave behind her brew larger than any previous wave so far. Nimbly, she leaps inland to the rockier shore, only just slipping out of range from the crashing sea. Her landing sticks badly, and she winces, falling on her right knee.

The last time Artemis felt this exhausted, physically and mentally, was after the fight against Typhon. But, movement in her peripherals - no time for thoughts as she tenses in anticipation -

"-ing schist, what in the-" splutters Percy, spitting out sand as he rises from the draining tide. "Gods that hurt."

The Huntress relaxes slightly, breathing slowing down as her heart settles. She'll wait for the Son of the Sea to finish whining. So infantile, still rubbing his leg even after the wave had probably healed him.

Two or three minutes later, Artemis wonders if she's overestimated Perseus. He'd taken a moment to assess his leg, but then just relaxed. No visible concern as to what had caused the injury to his limb, or desire to (at minimum) scope out his surroundings. All things considered, it would only take rotating his head a few or so odd degrees around to see her.

She coughs to get his attention, forgetting the surrounding environment drowns out her voice.

Yet Percy hears her.

"Oh - uh, uhm, who are you?" He turns, stammering, rubbing his head in embarrassment. It's easier to see through the sheets of rain, and she can hear his voice clearly at a conversational volume. It seems the Son of Poseidon is, now that he's conscious, dampening the storm around them - like there's a bubble, surrounding them and draining away the force behind the raindrops.

After so long in the intense, roaring weather, she's failed to realize that the water that lands on her now is almost a pleasant sprinkle, and the 'ambient' noise is now truly ambient.

Regardless of how enjoyable the change in pace is, Artemis resists the urge to roll her eyes. Is it his obliviousness, or the results of changing her form around? "Pray tell, Son of the Sea, why do you not know who I am?"

"Well I definitely don't recognize you, even if I haven't really been around camp recently. And if you got into camp, you're not a threat. You are glowing silver …" The penny drops. "Oh. Lady Artemis."

The short bow that Percy performs catches the Moon goddess off guard. It's minimal - at best a quarter of a full bow. Absolutely insulting in terms of proper conduct, yet even the attempt of formality throws her off kilter. She finds the gesture to be far too … awkward?

Somehow, it's a transgression from the behavior she's come to expect from him, however admittedly few times Artemis has interacted with Percy. Stranger even that she would expect other mortals (and even lower-class immortals) to acknowledge her with a reasonable degree of respect.

For the life of her, she can't decipher why the action distresses her so very much. "No need for that, Perseus."

The demigod frowns. The movement of the facial muscles places the wear and tear of his condition into sharp relief under her light. "Uhm … no need for what? Lady Artemis?"

The last usage of her title and name is tagged on hurriedly, as if to keep from offending her by his manner. Ironic, considering his form of address irritates her beyond comprehension.

Instead, as evenly as she can state: "Bowing. The formalities."

_Because you didn't do it at the solstice,_ she wants to add. _Because you didn't do it when you Iris-Messaged me._

That had been a trial, ducking away from her Hunters and changing to alter her age and features to what it had been when she'd been Luna. Though … as troublesome as that had been, she now often finds herself wishing for another call. So much so that her body retains Luna's age of 16 over her previous 'average hunter age' of 12 to make any necessary appearance change more convenient.

And she has yet to receive another call.

Oh, why does she feel like this?

_Because it somehow feels more natural - more right - without. _

"Sorry, what? Why?" Percy's brow furrows, eyes squinting at her in abject disbelief.

She waves her hand to the side dismissively, despite her inner turmoil. "Humor me, Perseus."

The reserved look Percy gives her is alien and strange. His cautious attitude, so unfamiliar, prickles away uncomfortably at her very soul. "As you wish."

And with that token, confused acceptance, the short-lived exchange falls flat. She is left with naught, just to stare at him - and it's not a pretty sight. His clothes are severely disheveled, jacket only half on with dry sand paradoxically clinging to his shirt and jeans. His reddened eyes and discolored eye bags along with his slumped posture are too telling of his exhaustion. Even his normally more lively hair falls flat, as if the rain actually affects it.

"What?" Percy snaps abruptly, no doubt because of her intense inspection. Artemis's eyes dart away from his unkempt visage, especially his accusing gaze. But glancing back, his eyes immediately soften into something much more _close_ and _familiar_ but still somehow _disheartening_, especially along with the grimace that follows.

"My apologies, milady. I'm just a bit … tired," he supplies, nodding minutely to himself. "Tired, that's it." He stifles a yawn. "On edge."

The goddess relaxes, fully focusing on him once more. Indeed, he looks as bad as she currently feels, ready to collapse into the sand. For all intents and purposes, she understands that he and Annabeth are close. Nonetheless, she had not anticipated him being in such a terrible condition. Did such an argument really destabilize him so much?

Then again, that is a stupid question. A really, really, stupid question, as her light and the surrounding storm so reveals. Well - "Have you considered the source of your exhaustion to be the storm you dredged up from the depths?"

"Huh?" He looks at her blankly, and it's all she can do not to either turn him into a forest critter or gut him with an arrow. Or both. Her fuse has long since burned to a nub, and it's some unknown wistfulness that's keeping her tolerant. Just. Barely. Something about it being Percy, that his obliviousness is tolerable, despite everything. For now.

Artemis tightens her jaw subconsciously, before arching an eyebrow and shaking her head in exasperation. "Do you … do you even know what you're doing as of this moment? Do you still fail to realize the extent of your powers?"

The Son of the Sea takes that moment to gaze at the natural disaster around him. The goddess takes that opportunity to move in slightly closer to better gauge his life force.

_Holy …_

The idiot had set off a storm that was _still_ draining away at the essence of his very soul, yet he still had a decent chunk of his power left to spare. Scratch him knowing his own limits, does she even know how truly strong he is? The last demigod of equivalent power was probably _Hercules_. Regardless of how much of a bastard that minor god was, you couldn't deny his ridiculous strength.

Yet Percy … just, what? Artemis simply fails to comprehend. When Percy had taken the burden of the sky, his life force had been far less. And even then she'd originally thought he'd been well-rested at Mount Othrys, due to his strength and vigor matching that of a far above average demigod at the time. At least, before she noticed how exhausted he was. Moreover, while his current power is about five times that several years ago, he is arguably far more burnt out now. Just how many times did his power multiply in so many years?

"This was done by me?" At Artemis's nod, Percy shakes his head in disbelief. "Wha- I didn't even notice - realize - I didn't even mean to!"

"Yet sometimes emotions get the best of us," she mutters softly. "What happened, Perseus?"

His sudden wary gaze, however slight that that particular emotion comes across, jars her.

She's taken her previous anonymity for granted, she realizes. It had been merely a taste, essentially one meeting, for the span of an hour (and another five minutes), but … the ease that she'd been able to communicate with Perseus, posing as a complete stranger - without the baggage of being the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt - had been _incredible_.

It was a subtly revolutionary special dimension to the bond she now shares only with Percy - that _Luna_ shares with Percy - freedom. Freedom, as in no baggage from the very reputation of _being_ Artemis. Baggage, from a role she needs to play that she never consciously realized restricts her until now.

… and …

That tiny little epiphany is heartrending.

She can't even remember the last time when she she wasn't simply going through the motions, or a conversation she shared with anyone that wasn't full of pretense or duty. Everything, locked by precedent or falsehoods or high society political empty niceties. Even within her tight-knit group of Hunters, she's constantly withholds information. In present day, she's done that even more than ever before. What had originally been a close sisterhood has deteriorated into a half-distant relationship between mistress and servants.

Even Zöe had become relatively distant over the centuries, however close she'd initially been after her tragic beginnings. And Artemis isn't sure if it's the result of the actions of those close to her, or her fault to begin with. She can't tell which is worse.

And, and after millennia of routine distancing … the only breath of fresh air Artemis manages, no, _managed _to steal - her single opportunity to be _real_ and _genuine_, interested and engaged and feeling the full range of emotions that she hadn't even been aware she'd ever lost - is because of a farce.

The evidence is laid out, all too bare and irrefutable before her. She sees it in Percy's distant gaze, his slight frown, his folded arms, and his rigid stance. So, so different than the open and bright and trusting personality she met during the solstice and conversed with over Iris Messaging.

She sees it in her own ragged breath, her worn heart, and her torn soul.

What fact was worse? Was it achieving some form of happiness previously unachievable by pretending to be Luna? Or was it her current torture from being Artemis, who she was?

And if - if she feels true, _real_, as Luna - what does that say for her normal, her usual life?

Artemis forces down her troubles to focus on what is more immediately important - Perseus. She swallows, mouth dry from apprehension.

"If nothing else," she begins, "You mu-"

"A-" Percy interrupts, finally answering. "A… disagreement." Percy's response is tight and unyielding. Behind him, the ocean churns in concert with the demigod's visible turmoil.

Artemis, in search of stability, sits down on the last of the grass before the sands of the beach. The demigod follows her example, sitting back into the dune from which she roused him from.

Deep breath.

Artemis sighs, loosening the tension (or at least, her own). "The storm must cease, Son of the Sea." Her voice barely carries over the diminished sound of rain.

"I don't even know I started it!" he retorts in a snap. "How do you expect me to stop it?"

Despite her exhaustion, she all too easily senses the emotions he conveys instinctively. It's in the inflections and nuances of his voice, and the unconscious physical language of his body. Hurt. Apathy. Contempt. The essence of the desire to strike against everyone and everything else for the wrongs done to him. On the verge of being unhinged, broken.

"Either way, you must stop the storm." She continues undeterred, regardless of Percy's mood. She needs to stop this. Unlike the cabins, there's definitely someone to witness her lose control again. And this particular person she can't polymorph or kill, she doesn't … doesn't _want_ to polymorph or kill. What options are left? "It is not fair for half of the country to suffer because of your disagreement."

"But! But!" Percy gestures wildly. Artemis almost smiles at how cute and amusing the frustrated movement is, despite the undercurrent of anxiety. "What in Hades has fairness done for me?"

Artemis cocks her head, momentarily considering the demigod.

"Why in Hades should I f $&ing care?"

The goddess wonders whether the fact that he is so outrightly disrespectful means something. Trust in her, or that he is that wounded?

She's crazy, she shouldn't be thinking about that. Focus on the problem.

She can leave, let him fend for himself and possibly crumble into a stereotypical twisted and selfish boy that she expects of males. It doesn't that an oracle to know that will likely be the path he will take. Or, she can intervene, help him in his moment of weakness. Pull him back up, support him and allow him to be the respectable man he has been. That he can be.

That he will be.

But how?

The answer comes to her, and she abruptly rises to a crouch. Her silver aura dims, before flaring even brighter yet.

She holds out her left arm, twists and replants her body. The goddess lines up her right hand with at a position approximately next to the inside of her left elbow, plucking something imaginary from thin air.

"Wha-?" Percy starts, before falling silent and pulling out his pen. Smart man.

Standing, she draws her arm back, and a bow, with its string taut and nocked with an arrow, shimmers into existence in her grasp. The Son of the Sea draws his sword in response - oh, Riptide, oh Z-Zö- … no time for that.

Because sometimes, violence _is_ the answer.

Maybe it's only a temporary solution. Maybe it's unhealthy to physically let it out and risk injury.

But here and now, it'll distract him from his demons.

…

It'll distract her from her demons.

…

Artemis inhales.

Tightens.

Steps back, soundless against the storm.

Exhales.

Releases.

Sweeping his sword, Percy deflects an arrow while perfectly placing himself between her next two immediate shots. Not her best work, but those were mainly to distract and feel out while she learns how much she needs to compensate for the force of the wind and rain on her shots.

The following three shots are on exactly on target this time, forcing Percy to dodge, delaying his approach as he draws ever closer. But then, strangely he flares his wrist, and his watch gleams.

Before the next volley lands, a beautifully crafted shield she had no idea he possessed spirals out to protect him. All her arrows glance off, even though she placed enough sheer power behind her bolts to puncture through conventional celestial bronze.

Behind Percy, another wave crashes, and she's forced to retreat as half-random blobs launch themselves at her in the dozens. A blink of the eye later, and a horde of arrows slices forth. The burst of luminescence simultaneously cuts apart Percy's projectiles and disorients the demigod.

Her opening to attack. Artemis leaps away from the blind slice of his sword, then plants her foot within his guard. Using him as a platform, she jumps upward to rain silver down at him while launching him back to the ocean. By the time she lands, she at best cuts into his leg - he's so fast in his element - but the wound is swiftly healed by the sheer volume of water surrounding them. But he's already charging back, so she launches an absolute wall of arrows that forces the demigod to fall under the waves, and soon enough she's left standing there with more arrows primed at the sea.

…

Is she smiling right now, doing this?

The question is rendered immaterial when the following wave moves further towards her than naturally possible. While she's swift enough to pedal backwards away from the crash, Percy flies forth from the water to slash at her.

The flash of gleaming bronze light from Riptide is beautiful - as if her lieutenant had returned from the stars above, just to wink at her.

The demigod looks furious - it seems more arrows than she thought had landed, as his shirt is in tatters. The shield is put away, and he holds the sword two handed. She can't escape - he's too close.

Artemis catches the heavy blow with her bow, bending with the force of it until she parries it, before rebounding and body slamming him back with all the strength she has left. Percy staggers from the unconventional strike, and the goddess uses the time to shift gear. She can't gain range advantage anymore - the bow in her hand breaks into two and melts into knives, and she braces herself for the close quarters confrontation.

Swipe. Suck in her gut, follow through, slide by.

Turn, parry, sidestep, jab.

Duck - trip him, slice down.

Jump away before he takes out her legs.

Flip a grip as he stands, throw -

He avoids, but slide in, sweeping kick, knock him down again;

Snatch her knife, roll into a crouch, bound away from his grab.

Turn around. Breath. Pause.

Mutual assessment.

Reengage.

The goddess loses herself in the duel. Her advantages, agility and godly resilience, are matched by Percy's water enhancement and longer reach. Despite her best efforts, she can never fully get into the right range to gut her opponent, while he can't match her superior, experienced footwork.

It's a dance; interplay and mirrors. One attack begets another, cause and effect in a perpetual cycle. Blades swirl past each other, and clash together before separating. The steps are rhythmic, electric, drawing the partner further along before forcing them back.

There. An opportunity, a hole in his attack. Feinting, she glides under the edge of Riptide and cuts a deep wound into his forearm. Unexpectedly, instead of holding onto his weapon, Percy simply lets the sword fly away and uses the opportunity to literally drop on top her. The reciprocation of her earlier unorthodox tactics - he's trying to even the exchange; his weight lands awkwardly on her leg, and he utilizes the moment to actually _peel a knife from her grip_ before tumbling away.

But it's too late, his effort is futile. There's no time to form another knife, but it's no longer necessary to. Even though his landing on her leg seems to have damaged some muscles or twisted her ankle, she's eliminated his advantage. His longer range is gone, and it's as easy as bullseye from a twenty meters to exploit the demigod's inexperience with a knife.

A few more exchanges later, and he's almost on his knees. He holds the knife he stole half-heartedly up, as if it could possibly ward her away. One final bound, and Percy drops to dodge - she tries to adjust, but then her leg fails her, and he's trying to scramble away. Giving up on her footing, also falls, using the momentum to snatch her blade back with her left hand before tucking the point of the other beneath his chin.

Victory.

Artemis freezes.

Except … Riptide's bronze blade is mere millimeters from entering her chest.

Huh.

The remnants of a wave bubbles up to them, enveloping them in a half foot of water. She's on her left side, propped up on her left arm, her right arm under his left and with a knife at his throat. But while on his right side, his left arm is across his body, holding himself up so his own right hand is free at his waist. His hand, with a whitening grip holding onto the handle of the sword threatening to critically hurt her.

The blade returns to the owner. While clearly hurt and tired - the cut she'd made mere moments ago was only half healed - part of Percy's mistakes must have been faked. Looking for an opportunity to ditch Riptide, then bring it out again for a surprise. A bait, forcing the match into a semblance of a draw. Perseus would always die if she landed a lethal blow, while no such wounds would truly be fatal to her. Or at least, only temporarily.

Nonetheless …

She looks up from the leaf-shaped blade, and their eyes meet.

_Perseus is laughing at me._

His sea-green eyes glint in the silver light, and the most cocky little smirk tells the entire story.

Around them, the drizzle is now all encompassing, no longer just their diluted bubble in the storm.

Hopefully that means the storm is gone. That he's been exhausted. She's too weary herself to care to check. Too weary to do anything more.

A rivulet of water makes its way down her cheek.

Artemis slowly pulls her knife away, then minutely exhales in relief as he mirrors her action. Her voice comes out raspy. "Better?"

She's moving to stand, and he's about to speak, but the leg Percy yanked gives, and Artemis topples forward. Surprised, Percy can do nothing but drop his pen and go with the flow of the sudden weight.

Oh.

Artemis blushes as she's put face to face on top of an equally reddened Percy. Her center of gravity is on the other side of his body, so she flushes even more as she rolls over him, before completely giving up on moving any further.

She's truly run out of fuel. After constant stress, this is her respite.

"Better," Percy pants in agreement. She's too drained to even turn her head to look at him, but his voice sounds … loose. Happy. "I needed that."

The awkwardness and strain from their previous conversation flees, leaving only a pleasant buzz of emptiness behind. She's not sure how long they lie there, silent and gazing up into the darkness.

"Thank you, mila- Artemis."

All that's left is catharsis.

"You … you are welcome."

Just him and her, in their own little world.

Lethargically, her hand drifts toward his hand.

Percy pulls himself up into a sitting position. Artemis pulls her hand back. Some undesired emotion swells up within her. Anger? Disappointment? Confusion?

"I should get back," he says quietly. The drizzle peters out completely. "Too many things to do."

Artemis closes her eyes and enunciates a single sound. "Hm?"

"See how Thalia's doing, I guess. Resolve certain … certain disagreements," the demigod elaborates. From the shifting pressure and weight, she's pretty sure he's stood up. However, it doesn't disappear, nor can she hear him splash back into the camp.

"Get everyone prepped to lose in Capture the Flag to the Hunters again, I guess?" he tries to joke.

The goddess opens her eyes to see his hand before her to help her up.

…

She accepts it silently.

…

Percy groans quietly as he pulls her up. When he lets go, they both lurch. Before she slips once again, the ever so gallant demigod steadies her by holding her arm. Artemis doesn't even have it in herself to blush anymore as she gazes almost passively at him. It's an alien sight and sensation, seeing a male now inserting himself carefully under her arm to better support her weight.

Yet … how it feels is a completely different story.

"Did I really do that much of a number on you?" He asks under his breath.

"Tch. I'll be fine." She tries to wave him off, but almost collapses again when he extricates himself. This time what prevents her fall is his arms around her waist.

Can she embarrass herself any further? She sighs, happy and miserable. As comfortable as his embrace is … "Just help me back over to the beach."

The short distance takes an age to travel, but eventually they arrive. She finds it in herself to stand stably on her own, and stares out over the much more tranquil sea.

Beside her, Percy pulls back, silent.

There's nothing to say.

…

After a minute, he turns to leave.

For some reason, she speaks. Voicing her own issues, Artemis supposes, however guarded.

"I don't think the Hunters will win this year," she whispers, nearly choking over the words. She's not even sure Perseus heard what she said.

Try as you might to avoid reality, you can never avoid the consequences of trying to avoid reality. And when it arrives … it returns with the might of the Master Bolt.

Artemis does the best she can to divest her face of liquid. Rain, that is. Though if there had been any tears mixed in, they were gone too.

Though he isn't. She hasn't heard him leave. She can't look at him.

One final touch on her arm. She's unsure if it surprises her anymore.

Turning oh so slowly, she takes in the demigod's tentative smile. It's hardly even there, she's hesitant to even call it a smile. But there's the same tinge of melancholy to his otherwise sympathetic eyes - the acknowledgement and understanding of the emotions that her previous words had contained. An effort to convey remorse and sorrow, to grieve with her and comfort her.

He steps in closer - his other arm rises, as if t-to approach, and, and - em-embrace her. Closer, closer, clo- … stopped.

He's far too close and far too far, even as his hand is still on her arm. He squeezes gently before drawing in a breath.

"May I …" Percy stops momentarily, searching for his words. He takes another deep breath. "Permission … permission to join your team, Artemis?"

Expressing everything and nothing at the same time. What a wonderful contradiction …

Her shy nod receives a more confident, a more true smile in return.

And then he's gone.

As she'd expected, she hears every step resounding in the darkness. The sounds of each and every splish and splash he makes as he departs - the sounds fade away.

Artemis faces the sea once more, towards where the moon lies beyond the horizon.

…

The new moon brings the high tide.


	23. Refrain V2 C3 Fantasy's Divide

"_Some days it storms, some days it shines. That is how flowers grow." Pavana_

* * *

A shock almost-sky blue liquid trickles down Artemis's throat. It tingles and tickles - but the oh so familiar sensation no longer burns like it had a few hours ago.

She wishes everything else could be so easily desensitized.

It's her, what? Eighth … maybe twelfth glass? Nah, she's long past that. If anything it's in the thirties, more likely the forties. It takes at least two dozen shots of most mortal alcohols for her to begin even remotely feeling intoxicated, and she's _definitely_ feeling it right now.

Though this recipe … hm … the rest of the contents of the martini glass disappears, gone with a single swallow. This recipe seems more … potent than the average. Low thirties.

The goddess blearily stares righ- … no, left, out through the window she's sidled up against. Nothing new to see. The city lights twinkle as vehicle after vehicle pass by. The vaguely lightening sky further outshines the already sparsely visible stars. The supermoon peeks out from behind a few clouds, ever nearing the horizon, radiant and full.

And just beyond the slightly frosted window, the transparent visage of deathly pale young woman stares back at her with bloodshot silver eyes.

She turns back to her table. Her glass is full again. Father above, she's so out of it she didn't even notice the attendant refill her drink. It had been in her hand, too.

At least she didn't have to call for another one herself. Far too much trouble to, tucked as deep as she is in the corner of the dimly lit bar. Artemis is fairly surprised that she's the only one left. Then again, there's far less reason for most people to get sloshed in the middle of March. And, after pulling out a few golden drachmas, the patron was more than happy to let her stay past happy hour and attend to everything she asked for.

The goddess shakes her head as static tingles in her stiff legs and interferes her thoughts. She pulls her legs up to rest beside her, and lets go of her drink to in order to rub some feeling back into her sleeping thighs.

Tap tap tap goes another drachma on the table, loosely bounced about by her other hand. A few inches away, a clear crystal sits bright and innocent on the dark stained wood of the table. Or rather, almost clear - the prism contains fluid light, the colors of the rainbow braiding into itself and refracting ad infinitum. Such a pretty weaving …

She wants to - no, _needs _to talk to someone. But even having thought about it for … how long? Ah, who cares. Fact is, there's no one to call. It had been in forethought, to keep this device and a drachma on her since her capture, for emergency scenarios. Yet …

Artemis contemplates the shallow depths of her drink. For all the family that the Olympians are supposed to be, she can't imagine going to any of them. Father would never understand, and she isn't comfortable approaching either Uncle. Hera would never help - not that she ever did, that jealous bint - and Demeter is just plainly too uselessly ditzy to talk with. None of the others were worth more than a minute's consideration, either. The gods in particular were too big-headed and ridiculous, especially her brother (if he could still viably be considered an Olympian). The exception in regards to being an idiot, Hephaestus, was too emotionally stunted, not to mention unfamiliar. And the the only goddess she could trust and respect to have a decent talk with is Athena - but Artemis also doesn't know her well enough to want to share any intimate information.

Wait. She remembers someone that hasn't been on her mind in decades. Aunt What'shername. It takes a moment for the goddess's slightly fogged mind to remember properly. Aunt Hestia. Artemis hasn't talked with her in at least a century, but she's trustworthy and kind and probably has good advice. Always happy to take care of family, at the least.

She reaches out, and her hand flops sloppily beside the crystal. The goddess frowns, then tries again. This time, her touch activates the device, and it looses a painfully bright rainbow towards the ceiling. If memory serves the goddess correctly (despite her inebriated state), she's supposed to say the name of who she wants to call?

With her system as poisoned as it is, the drachma slips from her hand before she throws it. Searching for where it rolled off to without falling from her seat is more difficult than she would like to admit. Eventually, though, the gold coin makes its way through the multihued array of lights.

"Hesst-iia." The goddess frowns slightly and pinches her leg. It's too undignified for her to speak with a slur in her speech. "Hestia." She corrects, before mumbling under her breath to exercise her voice.

The rainbow flickers, then changes. Her frown deepens when an unfamiliar girl in a far too intensely yellow shirt appears over the Iris-Message. Artemis might not have paid much attention to how Hestia chose to present herself in recent times, but this definitely wasn't her. The girl's eyes do not hold the comforting flickers of the hearth, and her clothes were not of earthier tones.

"Sorry, your call got redirected!" the girl bubbles. Her head bounces when she smiles, sending frizzy white hair flying to and fro. "Hestia's having her guru teatime with Iris right now, and that takes priority! Would you like to leave a message? Actually, no, I won't remember it, and there's nothing to write with around here. Is there anyone else you would like to connect to, Lady Artemis?"

The Huntress's brow furrows. "What?"

"You already paid, so I gotta send this call somewhere! No refunds, you know? Company policy. But then it's also bad business to just take your money like that, so…" the strange girl elaborates. She leans in, analyzing Artemis with big black/gray/white eyes. Strange. Hypnotizing. "Anyways, maybe you want to leave a message?"

There's only the barest pause for a breath to listen for a possible response, and then the girl's aggravating voice continues. "Wait, didn't I already ask that? No? Maybe? Ah hell, probably best not to anyways, my memory's pretty sketch. So is there anyone you wanna redirect to? Surely you gotta have someone in mind?" Another second's wait. "Maybe there's someone we can find in your call log!"

What? Artemis opens her mouth to protest, but it's too late.

"Very short list you got here," the girl comments as she pulls a file from thin air. "And our logs go back a thousand years! Then again," she peers off somewhere beyond Artemis's view, "Gods don't really use our messaging service. Yours is like … actually, no, it just _is_ the longest log out of the Olympians. Weird. Anyways! Let's take a look."

Artemis facepalms, before draining the rest of her shot. She is simply not drunk enough to deal with the fool's incessant chattering.

"Oh. Wow, all received calls, four in three months, and all from one person. And - cool, look who it is! Do me a solid and tell him that Fleecy says hi!" The girl waves with far too much excitement as she delivers the information. Even after as the visual imprint of a far too vivid yellow shirt has faded from her rainbow screen, Artemis is clueless as to what just happened in the past minute.

Like, it was … What? … Who? Whatever, she'll deal with it. She refills her glass, and then tips up her drink again.

A defined, tanned, and above all glistening wet torso pops into frame.

Artemis manages to restrain herself from choking on her cocktail. Still, some spittle unwillingly splutters out. Blushing, she quickly snabs a napkin to clean up the slight spill she made. It's convenient, as it helps distract her and averts her eyes from the … display, and by the time she glances back she sees the whole of Perseus Jackson, not merely his toned chest. She can certainly still see what she saw moments before, as he's standing about only wearing a swim trunk with a towel over his shoulders.

"Luna!" exclaims the demigod, not seeming the least fazed about how exposed he is. "I was planning to call you soon! What's up, how's things going?"

"W-why are you - you even wet?!" Artemis stammers, doing her best not to look at Percy anywhere besides his face. "And get dressed!"

"Oh! Sorry, I thought it'd be better to just accept the call sooner than wait a while to clean up. Didn't think it would bother anyone. And what was the other thing? Oh! I went for a morning swim, since senior year's kinda been stressful recently. Keep getting behind because I _still_ keep getting sidetracked by helping demigods get to camp or fighting off a few monsters. At least I have all my credits for graduation already - don't have to worry about any of that crap." The Son of the Sea quickly wipes down the rest of his upper body before beginning to dry off his hair. "And it's not like I've never gotten wet before, y'know. Before I was a demigod, at least. It would've been very strange when I went swimming and didn't get wet. Also, it just doesn't feel right not getting wet when swimming, y'know?"

Percy reaches somewhere out of sight, grabbing a purple shirt that he quickly dons. Artemis manages one final peek at his abs before relief (disappointment) floods through her.

Father be damned, her emotions are already too turbulent at the moment to have another storm added to it on top of everything.

What does she say now? Artemis wasn't expecting any sort of this encounter anytime soon; it was definitely the work of something beyond Tyche that she'd used her 'Luna' appearance as of late. She doesn't even recall how their last correspondence had ended. With the amount of alcohol she has consumed, her mind is far too fuzzy to recall concrete details.

Speaking of alcohol …

She reaches for her glass again.

"Hey, is that a blue drink?" asks Percy, peering closely. The sunlight at his location reflects off his eyes as he leans in for a better look. "Wait … is that alcohol?"

"_Memento Mori_." Artemis recites the drink's name. "A house special."

It's not the first time she's been at this establishment, wishing that the name - the phrase - actually held true. The bar she's at is ancient. Minor immortals and monsters for have run the bar for centuries, moving from one wealthy city to the next with the rest of civilization's fire.

One way or another, she always found herself nursing the drink once a century.

"..." Percy frowns, observing her quietly. Artemis takes that moment to sip some more of the blue liquid, before looking back out the window. The moon is leaving her, only the barest sliver of silver still above the horizon. "Are you ok, Luna?"

_No, I'm not._ Artemis rubs an eye, then smooth her hair back. "I don't … I don't want to talk of it."

Again, silence. Or, near enough silence - the barest ambience of the deathly quiet bar, and the vaguest hint of noise across the call.

Artemis hates these Iris Messages so much. She wants nothing more than to talk to him, yet so much of it is a fabrication. It's falsehood after falsehood, whenever Percy asks for her to tell him more about herself; and only pretense of understanding of his life when he discusses mortal issues she at best only comprehends. For the most part, discussion of academics and school and family - anything quintessentially mortal - was difficult.

She wants to learn more. Even staying away from the cities of man for so long, she can't help when her curiosity is piqued by the various developments. Artemis has always been inquisitive, but how could she ask questions to matters 'she' should know about? How could she learn more about the only man she wants to know better?

Just to complicate things further, she scarcely recalls what details she's given about her 'life' as Luna. She hadn't devoted enough thought to for earlier calls, and the vague fragments of who she pretended to be are muddled by alcohol. What information did she has she even given out about her persona?

Of course, those topics hadn't been solely what the previous calls had been comprised of. Beyond the call she'd received before seeing him at camp, the demigod has called her thrice more.

Whenever he did, they discussed things beyond the artificial, superficial, and personal. Things like philosophy, because of his Government and Psychology classes. Living for millennia really let her cheat on some of the topics in those little arguments. Or the differences between the mythological world and the mortal world, because that was a subject she could comfortably enter, even if her perspective was _vastly_ different. Hobbies and interests were also another safe topic - though she'd refrained from mentioning hunting, saying horse-riding instead. They'd even talked about various arts and musics - she'd never considered artwork from the internet or movie score music until he'd described some of his favorites. They were recent innovations, after all, the former especially so. And books! She keeps track of literature - a book is always nice when resting in her tent. Even if Percy didn't particularly enjoy reading, Artemis was surprised to learn he enjoyed _The Great Gatsby_ and _1984_. She's looking forward to hearing his thoughts on _The Stranger_.

Of everything she wants to hear about, she wishes he'd talk more of books. They're the biggest link she has to the mortal world and understanding how mortals think, and a mortal's deliberations on texts she's pored over would be magnificent. The few thoughts he presented have already recontextualized her own understandings of the relevant stories.

She'd never expected such insights from him. She'd never expected how original and new he is, compared to all of the people she's met in the last millennia.

After all, she's never truly seen how an actual mortal thinks. A radically new perspective of a fairly mature male, especially compared to that of frankly _very_ similar young girls century after century. Girls who, more and more as of recent, do not truly understand how truly blessed their lives were compared to that of ages past.

Talking with percy was simultaneously like a sweet release of breath, and a duty heavier than the mountains. Both a relief and a burden.

It was wonderful. It was torture.

… It is wonderful. It is torture.

Artemis desires the calls so desperately, but she can't help but hate them too. Every call is an upwelling of emotions from both ends, that, unfelt at such a degree for so long, feels foreign.

Percy shifts uncomfortably - Artemis has been silent too long, lost in her thoughts. "Lemme just -" Touching the surface of the projection, the Iris Message flickers, before bending to his will. It follows him as he drops down to the ground, to sit slouched against some wall to better address Artemis. "Do you still want to talk about something else?"

She nods slowly. "Yes. But ..."

"Hm?" Her correspondent straightens and scoots back. Artemis watches as his right hand idly traces something on the ground.

Deep breath. "Let's … let's ... just talking. Nothing …"

"Sensitive?" the demigod questions, and Artemis can't help but reflect how much more intuitive he is compared to before. To when he'd yelled at her, not even knowing who she was.

"Sure," Artemis agrees, finishing the rest of her drink. "Like …" She fishes through her mind for some simple and shallow question she's heard before. "If you could have anyone as a dinner guest, who?"

Percy stifles a chuckle, and his eyes sparkle. "So, icebreakers?"

"What? It makes you think, doesn't it?" retorts the goddess. She'd heard similar questions many times before, amongst h-her - her followers. "You think of the next one then."

"Yeah, I think I can do better," smiles Percy, clearly trying to take no offense despite her prickly attitude. "Hm … someone to eat with? I suppose … does it have to be a dinner guest?"

"What do you mean?" Artemis glances at him suspiciously, through a fog of intoxication. The amount of alcohol she'd consumed - scratch that, she's consuming (she drinks another mouthful) is really making her mood unstable.

"What about being the guest of someone else's dinner? Like, I'd honestly want to drop in on a god' meal than invite them to eat with me," Percy explains. "Or just, even, y'know, having a meal. Nothing big and fancy, just food."

"Which god or goddess?" she asks. His hesitance to actually answer the question draws her interest.

"Well … actually, I don't think I'd want to eat with any god except Father. Goddesses … pretty much the same, too. I would say Hestia, if I didn't already do that. Maybe Artemis?"

If the goddess in question had been drinking at that moment, she would've spat everything out. "I think you need to elaborate on that."

"Heh. Yeah, that might sound a bit strange. Well, I really haven't seen gods eat anything besides ambrosia and nectar at parties, or Mr. D eating grapes and drinking Diet Coke. And Diet Pepsi that one time. But then most of the gods don't like me, or I'd rather not eat with, so there's only Father. Like, I can't even imagine Hephaestus needing to eat." Percy shakes his head to dispel the image. "And the same goes for most of the goddesses. Only Hestia do I feel would be kind enough, but, as I've said, I've already eaten with her. Still do sometimes at camp, actually. So the only goddess I could think of that tolerates me enough is Artemis, and I'm actually a bit curious as to whether she eats along with her Hunters during meals, so..."

That is a sobering thought. That means she needs to drink more.

"So I guess my dad or Artemis? I think that's good enough. And - how about you have to answer your own question too?" Percy prompts.

She thinks for a few seconds, mind burning through names. She really doesn't have any interest in spending that sort of time with anyone. But then again … no shame in mentioning it (if only because she is intoxicated at the moment). "You."

"Aw, cute," Percy jibes with a tiny lopsided smirk. And is it her eyes deceiving her, or is there some red on his cheeks? "I'm touched."

Well, Artemis is at least very sure her own face is flushed. "What's wrong with that? We've only been in each other's presence once, and talked over a distance. It would be nice to meet in person again!"

"No, no, I get it, I get it," Percy says, smile growing larger. "Seriously, though. Touching. Should I change my answer to being you, then, too?

Oh, how little he knew. "What are you trying to say?"

"That's a good point. We'll see each other again at the Summer Solstice, won't we? Why not meet up? We can always plan for something then."

And just like that, she's pulled into spending the Solstice with him, with a completely unknown agenda. Even inebriated, she knows it's time to steer away. "How about back to now?"

"My turn to make a question?" At her nod, he continues. "What about … hm. What about, would you want to be famous?"

"And that's any better the question I asked?" scoffs Artemis, somewhat delirious.

"Hey," shrugs Percy, "Less cheesy for sure."

Artemis hmphs, trailing a finger over the rim of her glass. "I have no interest in fame." Her head had been big enough in the olden days. She'd gotten almost as cocky as her brother because of … nonono. And in the modern day, she's known well enough as it is. It isn't like she could directly say that, though. "What's so great about being famous? There's too many expectations that come with it."

There is nothing like being held up to the impossible standards of millennia past. Forever.

"It's not like you need to meet those expectations," counters Percy. "Isn't there a good number of people who are famous for just being themselves?"

"Hm? Then instead of being believed to be someone they're not, they're pigeonholed to be the same person forever. I imagine you enjoy it when it happens to you, Son of the Earthshaker, Defeater of Kronos, Hero of Olympus? Any other title I might be missing? One of the Seven? Gaia's Ba-?"

"Touché," interrupts the demigod, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah … point made, not so fun. Though people are already starting to stop caring. Old news and all that. I'm not _that_ popular. So, your turn for a question again, then?"

If they're playing a question game, she's going to at least take advantage of it. Now for something she's always been curious about. "Do you have a hunch as to how you'll die?"

"Huh."

Artemis takes amount to take in the various emotions that play across Percy's face. Surprise into reluctance, then suspicion and finally trust.

"After all the stress demigod life has given me, I wouldn't be surprised to die in my sleep. Something anticlimactic and ironic," admits Percy readily. "Especially with the prophecy schist done with, I can imagine dying peacefully and not to some huge calamity. Don't even have to imagine what it would like to be, dying in some fight. It's honestly something I've thought about a little before."

The goddess fiddles with the stem of her glass, then raises it to call over the bartender again. What a depressingly hopeful statement. But as for her … well, what could she really say? "I can't imagine how I'd die, honestly."

"Really? Nothing?" Percy cocks an eyebrow at Artemis's slow nod. Death is not the end - not for her.

"Well, aren't you special?" he teases. She only shrugs in response. "My turn again, then. Hm … if you gained a single thing overnight, what would it be?"

"Thing?" This time, she just takes the entire drink mixer from the bartender, who happily allows her to do so. She's able to drink at her own rate, he can stop coming back so often, and everyone 'wins.'

"Like, ability. Super power? Guess it could be an object." Percy attempts to clarify his question. "How about this: if you could get any one thing, what would it be? Literally anything."

Artemis measurably pours out her drink yet again, considering his query. She doesn't really _need_ more powers. She can't think of one that she wants, either. Well, no. She can. But it … that would be worth the cost. And as a goddess, there isn't much she can't acquire. But she can't afford give another non answer again, it would be too suspicious. She sighs heavily.

No powers then. Objects? Even her Hunters, quasi-mortal as they were, were very possessive with their earthly possessions. Perhaps she should make up some trinket? "Jewelry. Something simple, but elegant and high quality. Unique."

"Really?" Her correspondent is taken aback, incredulous at her answer. "I thought you didn't like any jewelry stuff. Like, I don't remember ever seeing you wear any."

"No, I don't," she assents, "I don't like the weight. But if it was good enough … maybe something small. A pop of color? I don't know. Never thought much about it."

She hums, mulling over her answer as she stares into her drink. She tags on one last requirement. "If it was perfect, then yes. I don't know what it would be, but if it was perfect, I would wear it."

Jewelry is always a distraction, going out and about and doing athletic activities. She'd simply never needed or wanted any accessories - she doesn't need them to look good. But there'd always been a spark of curiosity as to whether she'd ever find a piece she'd want. The liters of alcohol she's consumed by this point is plenty of fuel for that little thought. "What about you?"

"I actually really miss my invincibility. I did tell you about that, right? Y'know, from the Styx." He ruffles his hair, and pushes himself to his feet again. Percy gestures to his general bodily area. "I barely had it for like a year, and it sure as Hades was tiring, but it was so nice to be untouchable when fighting. It was almost like being a god, without all the baggage."

He shrugs, amending his answer as he begins walking to some unknown destination. "Well, beyond the tiny little problem of my Achilles' heel. 'Course, power always comes with a price, so I guess that made sense? But something like that again - or better than that - would be nice."

She contemplates his words. With his own frivolous confession out for consideration, her mentioning the desire to be able to raise the dead would've sounded less silly. Only a bit less silly - the prospect of hers is even more impractical than his. Just relatively less.

It really is strange. She'd never spent an extended period of time with someone truly mortal - her Hunters - her Hunters … never really had such a preoccupation with death. So Artemis never really understood just how much of a mortal's thoughts - or Percy's thoughts - revolves around life and survival. There is an underlying urgency and tension to his words - always, 'in the case I die.'

A constant fight for survival, to avoid the permanence of the end.

But she would never be able to comprehend mortality herself, immortal as she was. A barrier she can never overcome … She sips at her drink to help mull over her thoughts. Wait a second - even if she wasn't that familiar with mortal cities and the like … "Just a quick question - not part of our game - where in the world did you find an open swimming pool in New York City on a Sunday morning, with no one around?"

"Oh," laughs Percy, "I was gonna argue that that wasn't fair, but that is kinda a fair question to ask. I kinda have a copy of some of my stepdad's keys to school, just in case. Since he knows about the whole demigod thing, he understands that I should probably have some, just in case. I think you can figure it out from there. I'm heading to his classroom right now."

They both fall silent, and she's left to listen to the echos his flapping flip flops. Her mind returns to a phrase he used in his previous answer. "Follow up question - what were you implying about invulnerability and gods having baggage?

"I guess that's another question that doesn't count?" Percy sighs in jest. "Well, you already know about me choosing not to be immortal. Even the reas- even why I chose not to be. But even without her in the picture, what about everything else? I still want to live, well, a _normal_ life, or as _normal _as it could be. Dying's a part of that. And what about friends and family? And well - like, I already have a friend who's basically immortal. Dam, it's going to be weird being older than Thalia in a few years. Wait - no, I'm already older than her - wow. It's going to be the strangest thing in ten, twenty years.

"And don't get me started on fighting - schist, I don't want to do that forever. If anything, I might end up like Eurytion - he runs a ranch, don't get me started on that. Like, gods be damned, I've had my time already. My shtick is done. I don't want to be stuck forever - you know, it's probably worse than being famous, being immortal." He genuinely sighs this time. "Immortality is a curse, not a blessing."

That question … led to very uncomfortable places. Places she doesn't want to talk about. She blurts another question, completely unrelated. "What are you most grateful for?"

"My mom," Percy replies immediately. "I wouldn't be here without her. And I don't just mean her giving birth to me, because she sacrificed so much for me up until I learned I was a demigod. And even after that. No contest." He slows for a moment and squints in thought, before shrugging and resuming his walk. "I feel like I'm forgetting something important ... anyways, you?"

Damn. No hesitation. And for herself? What does a goddess have to be grateful for? "I am … I am most grateful for my abilities. I don't know who I'd be without them."

"Wow. Philosophical. You are what you do? Something like that? What abilities are you talking about? Mist manipulation?"

What? She pushes back into her cushy seat, trying to remember what he was referring to. She'd done a few tricks when they'd 'first' met? Artemis waves her hand dismissively. "Something like that."

"Mhm…" Percy stops before a door, but waits expectantly. Eventually, when it becomes obvious she's not going to explain more, he speaks. "Let's do a fun question."

Suddenly, Percy stretches his arms up, yawning, and Artemis pretends she's not looking at his abs as his shirt rides up. A few pops sound out as he bends and twists his back, and the flexing of his muscles appear very appealing. When his arms finally droop back down and he readjusts his shirt, the goddess quickly fakes interest in her empty cocktail glass. What is wrong with her?

"When's the last time you sang to yourself? Or someone else, for that matter?" The Son of Poseidon chuckles nervously. "I'm not the only one that does something as stupid as singing to myself, am I?"

Sing to herself? With her brother, it was impossible not to have found some music that she liked after so many centuries. But singing? There's no place for it during hunting, since it scares away game. And she only does so is in private. Oddly enough, she can't even recall even singing absently in the past few decades and some. Not since … the 20s? "Well, I don't, so maybe you are that stupid," she teases half-heartedly. As for the second part … "And I don't like singing to others."

"Hey - it's a lot more interesting to listen to underwater, ok?" protests Percy as he pulls out a jingling ream of keys to unlock the door. "Not my fault other people don't hear it the same way. It sounds so much different."

Artemis shakes her head. "And to others?"

"I think the last Camp Half-Blood campfire counts for that."

"Fine." She swirls the mixer, relishing the sloshing sounds of the liquid. What to say …? "Do you rehearse what you say before you talk with someone?"

"Hm? Not really. Only for really important things, but besides that I prefer to go with the flow." The demigod unlocks a door and enters a room, and then sidles into a plush armchair behind the front desk. He settles in, then gazes back through the mist straight into her eyes. "For the first few calls with you, actually."

She's falling into froth of the emerald sea of his eyes. "First few? Why'd you stop?"

"Because exactly planning out a conversation doesn't really work out sometimes," he admits freely, looking away in embarrassment. "The first one doesn't really count because you were busy with something, but I could tell you were a bit uncomfortable with the stuff I was asking about the next two times. Never intentionally tried to get to know someone before I planned on talking about certain stuff. It didn't work out, and I've always been better at improvising anyways, so no loss. Did you rehearse before calling me?"

"... No." If she'd thought through things long enough to be able to plan on what to talk about ask for the very moment, she'd have been sober enough to not call in the first place. "I don't usually call people at all."

Or rather, she doesn't call people at all.

"Eh. Maybe the problems are because of the long distance thing. It's different only talking and not actually doing stuff together, isn't it?" Percy offers for an explanation. He winks. "But hey, we're still trying, aren't we?"

She quickly downs the rest of the cocktail to avoid looking at him. The flush of blood in her face is because of her drink. The flush of blood in her face is because of her drink. The flush of blood in her face is becau-

"You ok there, Luna?" Percy's concerned expression swims into her vision.

Sigh. Artemis rubs the bridge of her nose. Calm. "I will be."

"Feeling better?" he asks hesitantly.

Huh?

… Oh.

And all the good cheer that's built up comes crashing down. Just when she finally forgets about all her problems, along comes the storm …

"Not anymore." Her mutter comes out as a bitter accusation.

Percy's sharp glance makes her insides wither in regret. She has barely a moment to consider her words and how badly she misspoke when Percy's acerbic voice makes her shiver. "Shall I go then?"

What? Artemis is clueless on how to respond - she wasn't prepared for Percy's flip in mood. Her hesitance is a moment too long, though.

"See you another time then." His hand sweeps through the mist.

"Wait!" Artemis's cries out, extending her hand. A silver light emanates from the gaseous substance that sustains the call. The change stops Percy's motion in its tracks, and through the slivers of somewhat connected mist left, their eyes meet. Muddled as her senses are, she's unsure what she finds in his eyes. Sadness? Bitterness? Resignation? And … and what does he find in her eyes?

"What?" His one word bite is paradoxically sharp and clear, despite being hazy and crackly across the damaged connection. His hand remains in the midst of his side of the Iris-Message, blocking half of her view of him, still ready to dismiss the call away.

"Stay," she begs quietly. "Please."

Slowly, his eyes still locked on hers, he withdraws his hand. With a circular gesture atop his end of the Iris-Message, the video call smooths over. Everything sharpens - his jaw is locked in place, and his face is resolute and unforgiving. Above all, the demigod's eyes are flinty, absolutely furious.

It, honest to Father, frightens her. It frightens her even when she eventually sees that his gaze is not wholly directed at her. That his anger is not focused only on her.

It's a minute of excruciating silence as they stare at her, before Artemis realizes that she needs to be the one to speak first. "I apol - I'm sorry."

"For what?" Still, his words are tense.

"I … I shouldn't have emptied out my emotions on you." She pushes her half-filled drink to the side, sets her hands in her lap, and forces herself to meet his gaze.

It's another ten seconds until he finally relaxes (though not fully), looking more melancholic than anything else. "It - you didn't say very much. I'm sorry too. I overreacted."

No, she didn't. But … "It still wasn't fair for me to do that."

"Me too, though," admits Percy. "I just - it's just … I want to help. I want to be here for you and help you. That is …" he takes a deep breath. "If you want it." He pulls out his trademark pen and begins spinning it between his fingers. "But it didn't seem like I was. Even with our talk … you're still focused on whatever's troubling you. You're bullshiting your questions. I'm not really helping."

Despite all the alcohol she'd consumed, and the lengthy conversation she's held with Perseus, the numbness of recent events still reverberates through her soul. The reason why she's at a bar, and not with her Hunt, will not leave.

"So you're still hurting, and you didn't want to talk about it. But at the same time, you aren't really into what we were talking about either," Percy elaborates. His eyes are now distant, mourning. "And at that point, it's probably better for me not to be here."

"I can't help you if you don't want help, or to talk." He's tapping his pen on the table before him now, clearly agitated. "Like, it's fine if you want to sort this out yourself. But then you don't need me. And if you want me just to be here - well, don't - don't just try to talk some empty crap. I don't want to waste anytime on shit that doesn't help."

"Annabeth and I broke up over this, did I mention that?" He laughs bitterly. "No, I didn't. Only that we broke up. Been through Tartarus together, but … we can't talk about anything properly anymore."

"I - I'm sorry," she repeats again. Artemis wipes something from beneath her right eye. "I …"

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad … we get along fine. Just … with everything, there's some trust issues. We can't say as much to each other as we used to, and it … it just messes with things." He sighs miserably. "Who knows. Things change, we might get back together - maybe? We need space right now."

"But that's enough about me, yeah?" Percy smiles halfheartedly. "Just - communication is the most important thing. Right now, it's about me being here for you. If you just want a friend - well, I'll gladly sit here for as long as you need, even if it's in complete silence and I'm just watching you drink. But-" He lowers his head into his hands and rubs his eyes. "And if you want to just talk about anything, to distract yourself - fine. It's not healthy, but since when did demigods care about healthy habits?"

The demigod lifts his chin, and his eyes open, gaze boring into hers. "But if you feel like talking … _actually _talking … well, I'll be waiting, forever and a day."

"Your choice - you tell me."

It's an ultimatum. Percy's not - he's not _threatening_ anything, per se, but Artemis knows this is a point of no return. There's something - trust? - on the line. Some invisible line that she doesn't know if he's crossing, or she's crossing.

Oh, Father … she should talk about it. She … she needs to talk about it.

_Milady … milady, please._

"One … one of my," Artemis chokes out.

_Let me … pass. I'm ready … I'm ready to see them again._

"One of my close friends died." She blurts out, and waterworks she couldn't imagine that she had contained for so long bursts out. She's still dealing in misleading truths … but this is more than she's admitted to, ever. "I've known her for so long."

_They're … they're waiting for me, milady ... Dorothy. Phoebe. Celyn._

She rubs her eyes desperately, trying to clear away the tears. Percy doesn't say anything, but Artemis is glad that he's silent. She's not sure she would finish if he interrupts.

"It's not - it's not that I haven't had people close to me die before." Artemis laughs, and even to her own ears it sounds deranged. "Be-because that sounds so much better."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she slouches forward into the table, too distraught to hold herself up. "With everything in the last few years, so many of my friends have died," the goddess quietly weeps into her arms. "And so many more died in the Second Giant War."

"I- I- I just wasn't prepared for another to die." A single misstep, and another of her Hunters downed by a monster. Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha …

_Rest … rest well, Martha. Thalia - take care of things._

She raises her head, desperately wiping at her face. Through teary silver irises, she searches expectantly for some response from Percy.

He falters, though. "What … what can I say?" Percy leans forward, drawing closer to Artemis. "This is just how demigod life is, thank the gods for that." How did he sound so sarcastic yet endearing? "Shit … what can I say that you haven't already thought of? I don't think I can say anything that you haven't already told yourself, Luna … fuck. Gods - what do you want me to say? To do?"

The goddess sniffs, and pulls a napkin from a dispenser to catch some of her tears. "Anything," -hiccup- "nice to hear."

Percy sighs despondently. "Oh, Luna …" He looks absolutely and adorably clueless, but he continues nonetheless. "They - she? They wouldn't want you to be unhappy. They probably went to Elysium. You might see them again there …"

She chokes a sob, and he trails off. The demigod's words definitely hadn't helped - she knows they wouldn't want her to be sad. And in all likelihood, they all went to Elysium. But she definitely would not ever see them again …

Percy surprises her, stuttering through some almost eloquent speech before his voice dies away. "Shit. Talking … I'm not good with that. Talking alone never helps, it's never just the talking. Just - just being there helps. And I … "

Dies away, before coming back stronger than before. "I wish I could be there for you right now. I am, sort of, yes, but I mean there _with_ you. Physically there and all. You look like you need - um - you look like you need a hug, and -"

The phone on the desk he's at rings, and he jerks back, frightened by the sudden noise. After a quick look at Artemis, then the number, he picks it up. The loud excited babble is impossible to make out. It's obviously important, though, and positive, judging by the Percy's brightening expression.

It somehow doesn't bother her that he's distracted by a different call.

Somehow, in less than thirty seconds, Percy's said enough.

He didn't say anything the goddess hadn't already conceived up, but she's spent her tears, weeping out her pain. It still hurts, but … somehow, in so few words, she thinks things will be better again. And she wishes he was actually present, there with her too.

She's not quite happy … merely feeling almost pleasantly burnt out. Satisfyingly empty. Cathartic.

Her face is still wet though. Artemis turns towards the window to use her reflection to help clean up her look. Through the transparent plane, the lightening of the sky is obvious. She can't see the sunrise itself, but the rich pastel colors thrown across the clouds and buildings in contrast to the long shadows behind them draws her attention.

The same light that Percy's been under for quite some time already. Who, speak of Pan, drops the phone carelessly back into place as he rambles away at her. "I'm so sorry, Luna, I got to run," rushes out of his mouth as he leaps out of the chair. "My mom's at the hospital, you called and then I forgot it was so close to her being due and Paul's been trying to f-"

"Due?"

"Yeah! Damn, I forgot you didn't know, my mom's having a baby!"

Her jaw slacks. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go - go celebrate life. I'll …" she swallows on nothing but air. "I'll be ok."

Percy's piercing gaze sweeps through her, even as he impatiently bounces in place. "No. Not yet."

Artemis straightens, shocked as he plops back down. "But- no, you're getting a sibling, don't waste your time with me, hurry and go, what are you doing?"

"Oh, lovely Luna." Percy's confidence is back, clear and calling. "Why would my time with you ever be a waste, Moonbeam?"

A wet laugh escapes the goddess. "Don't be asinine! This - this can wait. I'm, I'm already feeling better. You've helped. A lot. Thank - thank you." She hides her face behind her hands and blushes.

"Hm … you're sure. Well, no, still, I'll call you soon," Percy promises. "Tonight."

His smile before he breaks the connection warms Artemis more than a fire ever would.

The rainbow projection collapses, and she falls back into the cushioning, fatigued.

… oh, what now, then?

She pockets her prism, shifting in her seat. Surreptitiously, she glances at the innocent looking glass of blue liquid, on the table a mere foot to her right. Her pale hand snakes out … and pauses, shaking.

No.

It's time to be strong again. Though …

_*cough, sniff, sniff_.

Strong can wait until after she freshens up.

The last sliver of the supermoon slips away before the dawn, and Artemis disappears with it.

* * *

_Author's Note_

**Do not ever consume more alcohol than you can tolerate. You cannot tolerate the amount I described that Artemis consumed. That amount will lead to alcohol poisoning, long term health damages, and/or premature death.**


	24. Refrain V2 C4 Summer's Anthem

"Falling in love and having a relationship are two different things." Keanu Reeves

* * *

" Ah … Lady Artemis. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hearing her name, the distracted fog in the Huntress's mind lifts. Her eyes, staring into the distance, clear as she identifies the speaker.

"Calypso," asserts the goddess tentatively. Her senses are telling her that yes, the caramel colored hair and the cinnamon scent is that of the marooned Titan. Or rather, that of the formerly marooned Titan.

But it is in the eyes that Artemis truly recognizes her - without the familiar eyes, Artemis feels she would have failed to recognize Calypso in the first place. The dark almond irises that echo that of Atlas's … Artemis's arms twinge from the ghost of a weight beyond worlds.

But also the same intense eyes of her old lieutenant's. It would not do to forget that.

The former convict stands between her and the refreshments table that threads the center of the throne room. The nectar is right there, right behind the woman that is dressed not in the Ancient Greek attire of ages past, but in modern mortal party clothing. Rather … vibrant party clothing. The bright gold and fluorescent white clothing complement Calypso well in the way it is cut to reveal her body, but it's an unsettling sight. It is odd, seeing the Titan in clothing so contemporary.

And there's just some niggling feeling in the back of Artemis's mind that tells her that Calypso is … different, that she's changed. That she's now lacking something important, something essential that the goddess can't place to being exactly what.

Artemis's gaze locks with Calypso's. She remains standing where she is for a few more uneasy seconds, waiting for the Titaness to react. When her opponent's eyes finally flicker away, Artemis walks around Calypso to the table she'd been heading to and lightly cusps a goblet of golden fluid.

However, Artemis doesn't hear Calypso walk away. She sighs internally, preparing for the dreaded social interaction. This can't last too long.

"Just here for a drink," the goddess of the moon comments after another moment of silence. She takes a short sip of nectar. Mmm. There's ... hm. The milk chocolate is bold, sweet, maybe a touch too strong? But the hint of vanilla amidst the smooth texture of pastry is just right. Not the usual, and the flavors aren't what she expects from the 'universal flavor' drink, but the sweet surprise is a welcome one.

Her unplanned companion turns along to the table and faces her, left hand fluttering onto the table before selecting a drink of her own. "I do suppose that was awfully presumptive of me. After all, we had no prior standing relationship. You had only visited me on Ogygia … thrice, I believe."

Artemis hums noncommittally, moving along to an unoccupied area of the table to rest her backside comfortably onto the table. "Your home was beautiful, but it was not for my particular … taste. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Calypso agrees before silence prevails again. Well, not silence. The Muses are performing, after all. Artemis takes in the last few silky strains of melodious jazz bubbling over the conversational ambience surrounding them. But when the chords resolve, she alters her preference to mute all sounds unwanted and sighs imperceptibly with relief at the absence of distracting noise.

"So … you're free." The goddess says half-heartedly, There's little else to do while she waits, ever so anxious for what's to come. Her eyes are preoccupied, surveying the celebration around them.

"That I am," Calypso nods, and Artemis senses the Titaness getting comfortable beside her.

"Wait …" Artemis finally focuses her attention on Calypso as a single forgotten fact, unbidden, returns to the forefront of her mind. "Who freed you? I don't quite recall any of the gods or goddesses …"

"Ah ... that. Your memory serves you well, Artemis. You are correct - no god or goddess attempted to retrieve me from my … home." The former prisoner's expression, though, is not as bitter as Artemis expects. Instead, it's very much as if the Titaness is laughing at her, eyes alight with some inside joke. "No, it was a demigod who did the work of the gods." She brings her cup up to her lips, but pauses and glances sideways towards Artemis to finish her last remark. "Just as per usual, hm?"

The Huntress frowns, unsure if Calypso means to imply an insult. And wasn't the last hero to land on the island ... "Perseus Jackson?"

Artemis catches the slightest twitch of an eyelid and a grimace from Calypso before the Titaness smothers her instinctive reaction with a giggle. "After a sort, I suppose. He started it, but Leo Valdez was the one to finish the process."

Taking another draft of nectar, Artemis tries to place the name with the face, before arriving at the twitchy-fingered mechanic who had visited Delos. Her left hand flexes into a claw as she recalls her annoyance with the roars, shrieks, and screams made by the atrocious mechanical device her brother kept fooling around with.

She forces herself to relax. Thinking of Apollo wouldn't do any good. Though thinking of island homes … "So what is to be of Ogygia, with you gone?"

Calypso hums, absent and lost in her memories. "It'll be lost, I suppose. Until my dear Leo tries to find it again. But I doubt we'll return - the world has certainly changed much since I'd left it, and I'd rather explore the new than chase after the old with what time that I have."

"The time that you … have?" Artemis puts down her goblet and turns to actually scrutinize the Titaness for the first time. "That's what has changed," Artemis gasps as her mind spins from the revelation. "You're mortal."

"That I am too," Calypso nods, as if the matter is of no importance whatsoever. "You are very perceptive - your reputation as the Huntress is well deserved. The only other to notice outside of the dozens I've spoken to thus far was Hestia."

Artemis finds it difficult to respond, with her mind still buzzing over the Titaness's - no, the mortal's - confession. "Yes, yes. It is … interesting to have a reputation."

A loud cry from behind them, across the table, draws their attention. "Sunshine! Look who I found!"

The two women rise and turn around, and Artemis takes a step back as Calypso gasps in surprise. "Oh! Percy!" Silence falls within the group. Then, Calypso reaches across the table to clasp Percy's hand between hers, bowing and taking a deep breath before speaking. "I am so sorry for the trouble I caused you. Leo told me about it and it is unforgivable and -"

"Hey, hey. It's ok. Water under the bridge." Percy looks carefully at Leo before reversing the position of their hands to allow him to bend over to brush his lips over Calypso's hand. "And really, I needed that wake-up call, so thank you. I should have made sure the Olympians followed through on their promise." Percy's eyes dart towards Artemis momentarily, before returning to Calypso. "And thanks for all the other things from before that too, again. My mother has twenty-some pots of moonlace around the apartment. And you two are an awesome couple."

Artemis remains silent, squashing the rebellious feeling of aggravation stirring in her chest. Leo, on the other hand … "Yeah, and don't you know that means hands off, water boy?"

Percy releases Calypso's hand and smirks at Leo, then straightens up and looks back to Calypso. "And, I think, most of all, thanks for helping take care of this idiot. He definitely needed plenty of help before, and if anything he needs someone more than ever to make sure he doesn't blow himself up."

Calypso ignores Leo's indignant squawk and smiles back at Percy. "Of course. Why, just the other day, my babe, he-" Leo vaults over the table to shove his hands over Calypso's mouth. The former Titaness shakes with muted laughter and pries off his hand to continue speaking. "Sadly, that's a story for another time, I believe. It's good to see you again, Son of the Sea."

"Same. But I think you deal with Mr. Touchy now, so I'll be off. Leo - suck it up, man." The mechanic sticks his tongue out at Percy. "Cute. And, conveniently-" Percy turns to Artemis. "Luna! You look beautiful! Wow!" He tilts his head towards the end of the table a good dozen yards away. "Shall we?"

Artemis chances a glance back to Calypso and Leo before accompanying Percy away. The curious look that Calypso gives the back of Percy's head as he walks away unnerves her.

She'd been talking with Calypso as Artemis, but Percy waltzed in and called her Luna. The former Titaness is bound to be confused. What conclusions will she draw? Will she say anything? Is there going to any problems? Is she so easily confused to be Artemis when she intends to be Luna, and vice versa? Was it that way at the actual council meeting? Was Percy there to see it and did he connect the dots on who 'Luna' was?

As she meets up with Percy at the end of the drinks table, she forces herself to calm down before looking into his eyes. Deep, slow, breath, answer her own questions. Overall, age and appearance are of no consequence to immortals, but many did find a niche 'setting' to keep, and eventually be known for that. Most others recognize Artemis based on her contrasting age and maturity. But Calypso wouldn't have used those factors to identify Artemis, especially age, due to their lack of major interactions before. Calypso had most likely deciphered her identity by judging other less visible factors.

Her usual form … the only big difference when comparing that and her persona of Luna now is the age difference. On the other hand, the gradual appearance change and physical growth of 4 teenage years are stark. Moreover, earlier she had been in giant size while the council held court on the thrones (however inconvient and pointless it was to be so large so for little time), so being recognized off that form is unlikely. That, and she'd worn the usual silver robes and sandals that she'd always worn for council meetings, and then changed her get up to a tastefully silver trimmed black dress and slip-ons. Wearing so much silver would've been the equivalent of wearing a neon sign.

On a larger scale, beyond Calypso, no one would likely see a relation between earlier and now.

Artemis deduces with reasonable surity that she won't be mistaken for the "wrong" person again. Especially because she's here as Luna.

But as to what Calypso would do …. well, there's no way to tell what she will do. Hopefully, the Titaness will keep quiet about possible concerns. There's nothing Artemis can do about Calypso, so she can only move on to other questions.

But the most important question remains unanswered. Would Percy by any chance decipher who she really was? Artemis looks into Percy's eyes, taking in the marvelous green hues. "It's nice to see you in person again."

"That it is," Percy agrees. "Sorry it took so long to meet up. I helped Mom and Paul take care of Daphne for a bit, so I didn't get to Empire State until like 10 o'clock. The security guard is still a bunch of trouble, though. It took me almost another hour to get past him. And then I realized we never set up a place to meet, but before I could call you Leo popped up, then, well, you know the rest."

Well, that conveniently answers her last panicked question. "Actually, wasn't he the Seven that died?"

Percy laughs and gestures toward an empty table. "Long story. Wanna sit and talk?"

"How about just give me the short version and we do something else?" the goddess suggests. She gently takes his hand starts walking backward, tugging him to the dance floor.

She wants to delve into the feelings of this new experience. The goddess doesn't want to miss a chance.

Contrary to Artemis's desires, Percy stops in his tracks. The demigod shakes his head, a smile on his face the whole time. "So fast? Let me get some food for breakfast first at least, I didn't eat anything yet."

"Really? It's almost noon." Percy nods emphatically in response. Artemis pouts, but takes his arm and pulls up to his side. "Fine. Brunch, I suppose. Tell me about Leo, then. And Daphne."

From her peripheral vision, she sees Percy's eyes widen, and his left arm in her grip jerks ever so slightly - Artemis deduces that he's surprised by how handsy she's being. Tough. She's been anticipating seeing him in person for months. Hell, she's actually been considering the passage of time in days and weeks and months, rather than decades and centuries.

Nevertheless, Percy responds. "Leo IM'd me a few weeks or so ago. Surprised the hell out of me, since he's supposed to be dead, but I got over it pretty fast. Most of the other Seven never believed he died anyways, and it's nice to hope. He said he'd be here today and wanted me to help clear up things with Calypso," explains Percy as he snatches a plate of blue french toast spilling out of a cornucopia.

"And those things were?" she inquires, snatching a few cherries to munch on.

He waits for her to finish and dispose of the seeds on the table (which disappears into thin air immediately). "Nothing big. She just got into a little funk after Leo told her about a few parts of the Seven's adventures."

Everything settled, he escorts Artemis back to a small dining table and sets his food down in order to pull out one of the two chairs for the goddess.

"Thank you." Artemis gathers up the skirt of her dress and sits down. She pushes Percy's food closer to his side of the table as he sits. "And what of Daphne?"

"Oh, she was fussing this morning and I wanted to let Mom sleep, so I changed her diaper and fed her the bottle. Her hair's almost done falling out too, so less clean up - relatively, I mean," comments Percy before picking up utensils (that magically appeared) and digging into his toast.

Ah, yes. It was truly strange to learn how a human child developed. Artemis had been the goddess of childbirth for a time before the role was passed to Eileithyia, but childbirth was and remained an overall narrow topic. She had dealt only with the birth of the child, not the raising of a child. Not to mention that immortals didn't really follow the standard cycle of human growth.

In one Iris Message about two months ago, Percy had answered the call while burping Daphne. It was a very endearing image. Adorable, even. But on that topic, there's been one question she's been meaning to ask, though … "How sweet of you. But a question I've gotten a bit curious about, but always forgot to ask - why did your mother name her Daphne?"

Percy finishes chewing and swallows before speaking up. "Oh, Mom and Paul went through a few names. They even asked me about it, and I helped them bring down the list to two. The other choice was Sophia, but in the end, they just decided she looked more like a Daphne."

"So there wasn't any ..." Artemis searches for the right words. "any intentional meaning behind naming her Daphne?"

"Wha? Oh, you mean - ah, that's why they sounded familiar," exclaims Percy. "The names are from Ancient Greek, right? Wisdom and ... um, the laurel tree?"

"Mhm," hums the goddess in agreement. Daphne, the naiad turned laurel tree, because of the great horny bastard Artemis called her brother. At least the laurel later became symbolically more significant and beautiful than just the extent a female had to go to to avoid being raped. "Daphne's a good name."

The demigod nods emphatically as he polishes off the rest of his plate. Wiping his mouth with a napkin (also magically generated), he stands up. "Shall we?"

"I suppose so," beams Artemis. She lifts her hand for him to take. "Well?"

Percy rolls his eyes, and circles around the table to take her hand. "So demanding."

The goddess pointedly ignores his teasing and rises gracefully. "Aren't you the gentleman?"

The Son of the Sea does look the part. He isn't wearing a suit, perhaps, but he is wearing a rich purple dress shirt, a silver tie, black dress pants, and even shoes that looked the part of dress shoes. While they hadn't attempted to coordinate clothing colors, they'd certainly done a passable job.

Because, well …

Yes, they were on a date.

To a 'dance.'

In Olympus.

On the Summer Solstice.

Yeah … Artemis has no idea what she's doing. No idea at all.

Well, no. She knows perfectly well what she's doing, and she knows it's a terrible idea, and she's doing it anyways.

Because she definitely wants this little thing to happen, even with whatever repercussions that might come.

Sure, the odds of exposure are severely out of her favor in the throne room, even if other gods can potentially recognize them. Calypso sensing her identity isn't a good sign, but the former Titan is likely an exception. Most of the various gods and goddesses are probably relying on the five basic senses and wouldn't realize Artemis was with Percy, on, well, on a date.

And hopefully, the date factor would work its magic in helping cover her identity. With her reputation, no one would expect her present herself to be four years older than usual, wearing largely black clothing, and practically draped over a male.

And the … male, part. It hadn't really been her intentions to have a date. But she couldn't think of a plausible way to deny Percy's invitation to get together at the Summer Solstice. Solstices always come first in demigod life, so there was really no other event for her to say she had to go to that took priority. After all, the main meeting practically required the presence of every demigod in the camps. And sure, neither of them had technically enjoyed the Winter Solstice festivals after the event, but they had still gone to it. The fact that neither of them had stayed afterward only further convinced Percy that they should experience it together.

Though … deep down, in the depths of her soul, she very much wants to spend time with Perseus Jackson. The man who'd proven his worth, saved the world (twice!), mended her heart, and stolen her fancy for at least if not more than the past half year and some.

Being here with Perseus is worth the risk.

The hero endeared himself to her with the every increasing number of calls. Since the … alcoholic incident with … Martha dying, the amount of IMs between them had spiked from once in two weeks, to once a week, to almost every other day. She'd even been the one to initiate about a third of those calls.

It was a quiet revelation, being able to gradually understand and absorb the tendencies of a person, and admire his virtually pure soul. Not fully pure, perhaps, but almost. And being able to share a little about herself (to the best of her ability within the boundaries she'd set for herself by pretending to be mortal) was like finally releasing a breath she'd been holding for centuries.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd comfortably shared her thoughts and self to someone. Not even her Hunt - there, she'd been an idol. Not distant, maybe, familiar and somewhat sociable, but placed on a pedestal and a step removed. Treated not like a fellow person, but … a god. Alien, without the same wants and needs.

How ironic.

Gods be damned, she'd been the first one to call the 'meetup' that he'd suggested a 'date.' Perseus had only ever said 'hang out' or "meet up" before she'd called it a date.

Artemis, goddess of the Hunt, sworn eternal virgin, and hater of man - going on a date.

Oops.

But as Luna …?

Well, it's the first date for the little lady from Rome, so best to make a perfect memory to last the ages.

They make their way onto the dance floor, weaving around cha-cha lines and worms and break dances and planks and grinds and twerks to a more subdued corner.

"Do I even want to know what those guys over there are listening to?" asks Percy. Artemis turns her head to see and blinks at the sight of a group of assorted demigods, gods, and other beings rocking their heads back and forth at a stupendous rate. The violent motions send their long hair flying everywhere; their hands were either up in the air punching with an unheard beat or playing guitars that simply didn't exist.

Artemis shrugs eloquently. "Likely metal. Music can be weird." Evidence: her brother, the embodiment of music in a (not so) holy being.

"I guess? What about what you're listening to?" Percy's second question draws Artemis's attention back to him, and the most adorable expression of confusion falls upon his face as he 'listens in.' "Why is it so quiet? Did all the other noise people were making just get erased? Shit, you can do that?"

"Magic can do wonderful things, can't it?" Artemis comments rhetorically. "Destructive sound waves - the use of sound to cancel out other sounds."

"So you can make it so you can only hear the people you're having a conversation with? Damn, I've been missing out!" Percy exclaims as he looks over the crowd. "It's really weird not hearing everyone else, but it's certainly a lot more peaceful."

"I imagine most do not know this is possible," Artemis shrugs and squares up to face him. "It's not as if the average mortal has many opportunities to listen to the Nine Muses. One time a few years ago I asked for silence instead asking for the music to stop, and this was the result."

Few.

"So why can we hear each other?" Percy asked, nose scrunched in thought.

"Magic? The usual answer for everything," suggests the goddess. But she is sure that everything feels too … boring at the moment. Flat. Platonic. Unassuming. Casual. Whatever word.

"Weird. I just listened to the music over everyone else's noise. Sure, you don't hear what they're dancing to, but it got awkward sometimes when other groups nearby were dancing to something completely different. This is much better not dealing with everyone else being loud. It's like being in our own little world." Percy frowns minutely. "Though I think some music would be nice. You have to request something now, is that how it works? I tuned into you, so that means you're in charge, right?"

"The magic that they use to link up groups and synchronize is beyond me," shrugs Artemis again as she takes his hands and places them at her waist. The soft jazz from before returns in a heartbeat, though it's a new song she's unfamiliar with. Perhaps taking his thoughts into consideration? The style is perfect, though: the calm, slow beat of drums and rasping snare; the muted chords of string bass and trombone; and the lilting, sweeping smooth saxophone; and a peppering of trumpets. The ensemble accumulates pleasantly in her ear as a single, satisfactory package.

"Jazz?" asks Percy. She nods, even as her hands move up to behind his neck.

"Why didn't you ever mention that you liked jazz?" Percy asks again. This time she shrugs noncommittally in response, before letting her hands settle. The position is perfect - just the right height (head level) to feel comfortable. She begins to drift back and forth in time with the fairly slow music. It's a good few seconds before his hands arrive at her waist and he finally submits to the flow of her movement.

The Huntress finds no need for words at the present, and Percy seems to agree. She wants to talk, yes, but right now she deigns savoring the physical intimacy she's sharing with Percy far more important. The slight weight of his hands, mere millimeters from touching her skin over her skintight black dress, reinforces the feeling of closeness. As the melody swells, she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat in concert with the music. Though …

"Nice tenor sax feature." The Son of the Sea mumbles quietly, not looking at her as he does so.

"Yes. How did you know?" As close as the demigod is, Artemis can feel how tense his hands are, a subtle difference of being locked rather than rested at her waist. The weight is still agreeable, and Percy isn't gripping her, yet it feels … tight, rigid. Just slightly off. To be fair, though, she is all too aware of her own hands trembling, even if only a little bit.

Maybe she isn't as ready for this as she thought. Or was it too soon for a slow dance?

Percy shrugs, and her arms jostle out of their position. "Ah, it's sorta embarrassing."

"I won't laugh," assures Artemis. She tries to find a comfortable position again, but the right location for her hands seems just out of reach.

"I always thought sax players looked pretty cool. Not marching band, but jazz band. The jazz band at Goode plays at lunch sometimes, and it's usually pretty good. Like ... I don't have a good history with music. An empousa kinda wrecked the band room and blamed me, so I'm banned from there. At least I wasn't expelled. But I kinda wanna play," explains Percy, eyes still off towards the general direction of the Nine Muses. "Mom also has a few good jazz albums that she plays, even though there's less of that than the other music she prefers."

"So you've listened enough to identify what type of saxophone is playing?"

"It's pretty easy. Sopranos, which play the highest, aren't even used in most jazz bands, but you usually have one bari. But they're really low and have a pretty distinctive weight to their sound. Alto sax and tenor sax the most common and are pretty close, but alto is a little more pitchy and goes higher, while tenor has the extra little range at the bottom that makes it sound a lot sexier to me."

"Sexy?" Artemis titters. Percy blushes and ducks his head, looking down at the tiles between their feet. The goddess, though, merely snuggles in closer to counter. More specifically, she leans in, cocking her head almost to his chest to look up into his eyes.

"I dunno. It just sounds … darker. What's the word …?" Due to their proximity and lack of other sounds (besides the music), his voice is now only a soft but clear whisper. Nonetheless, Artemis moves flush to his body, one ear listening to him and the other suffused with the beat of his pulse. "Alto sax is just too loud and bright for me, while tenor sax is kinda more … mellow, that's the word. Rich and full and beautiful ..." Percy trails off, and Artemis is sure his eyes are swallowing every detail of her face, with how the sea-green shimmers.

A half minute or so after she's closed the space between them, Percy wraps his arms around her waist, hands ghosting, one above the other atop the arch of her back. And it's there, enjoying the music, with the hero she's come to enjoy so much time with in her arms - or is it that she's in his arms? It's there, that a question that she had never considered before comes to haunt her. Even as they continue to sway, even as Percy's arms start to change from feeling vaguely distant and holding her away to soothing and inviting, she can only wonder: how much of her happiness has she denied herself by refusing males for millennia?

No, no, surely not. Perhaps - but Percy feels unique, surely a fresh soul born from Chaos so that there were no previous incarnations of him that she could've met earlier. Percy is special, for being able to come so close to her heart. But underlying that question …

When was the last time - no, when did she ever enjoy the tranquil and relaxing pleasures in life? Was this feeling only from spending time like this in such a manner? Even in the slowest paced hunts, an undercurrent of adrenaline is always prevalent. But this wasn't the ecstasy of a success - just a simple contentment with her state of being. Which, at least, she can now remember having some occasions of that in multiple centuries ago, spending nights with her Hunters.

But when had that become a chore instead? When had her lifestyle changed so drastically that being with her followers had become a matter-of-fact series of going through the motions? And when did it become that pretending to be a mortal, and spending time with a male became what made her most …

Most happy? Quietly but quintessentially happy?

Finally, she becomes conscious of the fact the music has stopped. But Percy has yet to stop slow dancing, and Artemis herself isn't inclined to stop either. She pulls her head back to regard him properly, and her field of vision slowly narrows as she draws closer and closer, lips parting minutely to -

His forehead gently bumps into hers, and she flinches at the sudden unexpected contact, fully alert. Now they stop moving about in place, and the hero's easy smile and tiny chuckle is infuriating on a level she can't even properly comprehend at the moment. She puts a little space between them, but before she can push him away and tell Percy off, his grip tightens and he asks another question. "Did you know that song?"

Her (completely righteous) fury tapers somewhat as mild confusion shoves it to the side. "No … why?"

"Because I do. Never heard it that way, but …" There's barely a ghost of a laugh, belying his amusement at the coincidence before he explains. "I hardly realized I picked it up until I was singing it in the shower, but I started hearing this song a lot because Paul loves hearing it, and playing it for Mom. And if you had, like, any idea of what the lyrics of the actual song is, well …"

"Well what?" she replies, a bit testy.

"Ask them to replay the song." She gnaws on her cheek, dissatisfied with his answer. But Percy smiles - softer, and even a bit pained now. And when he tugs gently at her waist, she grudgingly accepts his invitation to come closer and puts her arms around his shoulder again.

For a moment, one of his hands leaves her back to cusp the back of her head, and bring her forehead to meet his once again. All the while, the intensity in his gaze burrows into her eyes. "Luna. Please."

In the briefest second, she muses just how little names are used in real conversation. Being called Luna … was vaguely off-putting. Felt right, felt genuine, because of the way he said it - yet fundamentally wrong, because that wasn't the name she expected.

Then the hint of the thought of the word 'replay' in her mind restarts the song the Muse just played for them. This time, it's Percy who pulls her into dancing.

When Percy begins to sing softly, Artemis missteps. Thankfully, correcting herself and resuming their simple dance doesn't distract Percy from his song nor herself from hearing the lyrics.

_When I fall in love … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`. … it will be forever_

_Or I'll never … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`… fall- in love_

_In- a- restless world … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … like this is_

_Love is end-ed be-fore it's be-gun …_

_And too many moon-light kisses …_

_Seem to cool … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.` in the warmth … `.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` of the sun …_

Artemis can't tell who is more embarrassed at the moment. Both his and her eyes dart about, barely able to lock onto each other's gaze for a few seconds before flickering away or closed. That, and his cheeks burn bright crimson, and she is absolutely certain hers are too.

_When I give my- heart … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … it will be completely_

_Or I'll never … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … give my heart_

_And the moment … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.` I can feel that … `.`.`.`.`.`.`_

_`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` you feel that way too~_

_Is- when … I fall in love … with~ you. -~-_

This time, they stop with the end of the piece. The sound of their breathing reigns as they are finally able to contemplate each other's eyes without interruption.

"You sing." Artemis searches his face for his response. Usually, it would be easy - Percy wears his heart on his sleeve - but at that moment it was frustratingly empty.

At least, until he cracked a small lopsided smile. "A Child of the Sea should always have hidden depths."

She tries to smile in return, but it refuses to properly form on her face. She attempts again - but to no avail. No point in a third try - instead, ever so slowly, the goddess rises to the tips of her toes. They were already wrapped oh so close, but now she presses up to Perseus as if to merge their bodies. Her eyelids flutter and close halfway as she approaches. The closer she gets, the more she can feel his very breathing slow to a stop as he freezes in place. She's only an inch away now.

There, she finds an impenetrable barrier. She can't bring herself, make herself, force herself to move any closer, and the two are locked into place. A few seconds - minutes - hours later, and Percy doesn't close the last gap between them.

… why?

Oh, gods be damned to Tartarus, Artemis has no idea what she's doing.

She just - why can't she just - why can't she finish the deed? She wants she wants she wants she wants so bad. She's been anticipating - anticipating something - something! This moment? This! - and it's here, and it's not happening, but it's not happening, nothing feels right. Everything is too rushed, too forced, too … fake and phony.

Maybe this isn't what she was looking for? Maybe she's just crazy. Well, Artemis has no idea left of what she might be looking for …

But apparently this isn't it.

She falls back on her heels as slowly as she approached. Oh, why didn't Percy respond? Why wouldn't he respond? Artemis appraises the last bit of intimate warmth from the hero's body before extricating herself and ducking her head to stare at their motionless feet. She feels as she's been sucker punched.

"You've done more for me than you'll ever know," Artemis whispers.

She turns to her left, towards the exit, not even looking up to see how he reacts - then stops.

Her gut actually feels like it's been punched. But it's strangely off to the side … she looks to her right, where a small celestial bronze knife handle sticks out from right above her where her kidney is supposed to be. Artemis falls onto her bottom, keeping herself from falling over completely with her left arm.

Is - is someone saying something? Percy is … is yelling at … protecting her from her attacker. It's a … a blonde girl - Annabeth? People around them are starting to notice …

Deliriously, Artemis clenches and pulls out the blade from her side. Golden ichor spurts out, splattering across polished marble tiles.

Oops.

The moon goddess faintly senses that Annabeth is so confused as to stop fighting Percy. That in her peripherals, the approaching Aphrodite and Zeus and Poseidon are also so shocked into complete disbelief as to stop moving towards the scuffle …

And Percy is turning, turning just in time to see the ichor-stained blade clatter onto the floor as she flashes away.

* * *

_When I Fall in Love, performed by Nat King Cole, music by Victor Young, lyrics by Edward Heyman_


	25. Refrain V2 C5 Love's Labour

"_Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire." Patti Smith_

* * *

The problem with immortality …

Artemis's tongue flicks out, peeking for a millisecond from her pale lips. Silver irises alight upon lines and lines of uniform black lettering, devouring all in their path.

_The laws of language are crucial to comprehension - after all, how else would we understand one another, without any set boundaries and understandings? However, it is when those rules are lacking (or even broken) that things become interesting. It is why some even declare those same rules to be guidelines, or even arbitrary altogether. The masters of language casually show their disdain for them. _

_Of course, that is by their right of experience. They are masters of their art, after all. And as with any other art, learn the rules first - then break them, with style. I hope, with this text, you will reach the point where you may do so in your own writing._

_But even before I get ahead of myself, we still must address language itself. What is the point of learning rules, if not for what the rules govern? After all, the host of all that can be done is not merely in the construction, but also within the material._

_It is in the ambiguity of words that so much can be manipulated, even before structure. Diction before syntax. And the English diction is marvelous - there are sacrifices in coherence, perhaps, but in the name of a greater range and differing emphasis. This is only proliferated by the multitudes of definitions, interpretations, and shades of meaning of the words that make up the language - it is from these nuances that beauty, that … _

Artemis thumbs the bottom corner of the page, chewing a bit of her lip. The foreword had been an excessive self introduction of titles and names that the author held, and a heaping thanks to various muses, aids, and sources. But the title on the slim spine - _Whimsy on the Wit of the Words_ \- that had pulled her attention to the book in the first place had also warranted enough interest from her to dive in further. Her choice to read on to the first chapter, titled "Definitions," past the absurd self-inflation, is rewarded by the almost fun of the lyrical flair of the writer. Most definitely, this "Alice J. Stevens" knew what she was talking about. It's certainly worth flipping to the next page.

… _art arises, even before the subtle machinations of writers. It is in the precipice between, for one of my favorite examples, __honesty_ _against __truthfulness__. Many would claim those two words to be the same in meaning. However, I find a difference. While being honest means you are truthful, being truthful does not mean you are being honest. _

_To explain: honesty is the lack of deception. Yet one can just look at the work of any politician worth their salt to learn how to deceive with truth. There are many ways to do this, which I need not go off into a tangent for. No more the less on topic, I consider myself to be quite skilled at this art. It is in the holes of meaning that we try to fulfill - that we come to recognize that lying is not a catch-all for what we desire for it to denote. We try to think of lying to be all of falsehood, to be the antithesis of everything true and good. Ever heard the term lying by omission, perhaps? If if no false information was told, then it was not lying to begin with. But for humans to properly conceive of deception with only a flawed perspective, such casual and inaccurate recontextualization occurs._

_To quickly explain how such occurs: someone just heavily implied an answer by stating some established fact, by which the other assumes some answer beyond that vagueness. Only truth was stated, yet dishonesty occurs. It is one of the ways within English in which one manipulates conventions, of both society and language. So, as a warning - be careful when someone tells you they are telling the truth. They might be dishonest._

_How about another fun little question? The faults of "I'm sorry," between its understanding of __apologies_ _as opposed to __condolences__? Though some do not care at all - more's the literal pity._

_In times where saying sorry has become far too popular, depth of emotion is cheapened. Sorry is most in link to apologies, which of course conveys regrets for one's own faults and wrongdoings that caused trouble for another. Yet the colloquial term is also used in the place of condolences, where one expresses acknowledgement and sympathy for the problems of another. And that usage is wrong._

_With that established, it's no wonder that issues can arise. Does saying "I'm sorry" really fit when you're trying to express sadness and support for a friend after their relative's death? Condolences works much better. Used wrongly, sorry carries the feeling of pity and condescension. _

_On the other hand, the formality of the use of "apologies" over "sorry" greatly aids in sincerity and strength for times that the usage is correct. So, for a positive contrast to the previous example - do some good, use the words in the correct scenarios._

_And finally, before more concrete a lesson - in emotions, there's one more example I absolutely __love_ _due to the addition of a preposition. Unlike the previous cases, this is not about two words that differ, or a word supplanting two other words. This time, it is the presence of another word that changes the meaning of the original word. A preposition that modifies the subject matter from a verb to a noun, in fact. Just to keynote the subtlety of "in" for this case, or any word, for that matter. For what is the difference of being in-"_

Artemis flips th-

The rasp of a heavy wooden door, oiled too well to creak but still brushing against the frame just so slightly, prickles in her ear. Her head snaps towards the sound at her right, and her eyes immediately pinpoint on the trio entering. She clamps the book shut and puts it aside with nary another thought given to it, and ducks into the shelves to find cover.

Sometimes the hunter tracks. Other times, the hunter lays a trap for her prey.

Both are exercises in patience. Both get to know their target. The former tracks, uses fundamental but general knowledge of the potential target.

But the latter has the advantage of _intimacy_. The time to get to know the prey in question, and to learn the routines and mannerisms of the individual.

Prey is a strong word. Correct, perhaps, but strong. Would she describe the demigod Perseus Jackson that way normally?

Well, besides needing to establish a "normal" first.

Regardless. The goddess spies a glimpse through the books. Approximate hour on a Thursday afternoon. Fourth week, fourth time.

The first was a surprise, second a coincidence, but third? A pattern. Likely formed due to one of his current companions, one she's seen with the demigod every week: the Praetor. Perhaps because Thursday afternoons were unfettered by any occasion of import, so the Praetor was free of duty?

Reyna, if Artemis remembers correctly, is the name. She might have heard the name a few times, from the celebrations of yesteryear and the off-comments of Thalia. A wonderful woman - young, independent, powerful, a force to reckon with.

And someone she can't help but resent, but envy for being right there next to Percy, interacting with him. Interacting with warmth. Happiness. Freedom.

The other companion is unexpected. Somehow more so than other companions from before. There hadn't been any others the first time. In the second, they'd also been accompanied by two of the Seven - the other Praetor and his lover that visited her birthplace; the last, a stumbling drunkard.

This time, there's a six, maybe seven year old girl, plainly skipping ahead of the other two (with the appropriate library volume, although Artemis still detects enough motion to triangulate the girl's location). Cute, really, by first impression. Almost innocent more than anything else, especially with the odd disposable paper crown atop her flouncing ponytailed hair.

She stops at exactly Artemis's aisle, entranced by the colorful books on display. Artemis falters into the shadows, shrouding herself away from the well-lit middle of the building.

Then, Artemis peripherally detects the other two hustling over to catch up with the now motionless child. Juggling her options, she swiftly ducks into the next aisle closer towards the exit, and lightly scampers towards the center. The collision course is set.

She times it to perfection. Reyna, ahead of Percy, reaches a halt, but Percy is still a mid-step behind as Artemis reaches out and encloses her right hand on his left arm and -

They stand in the midst of the Garden of Bacchus, their continuing respective momentums throwing each off balance. It's a testament to his reaction time that his hand nearly at his watch, ready to deploy his shield. But in anticipation of his move, Artemis's hand is already there, blocking his access. As Percy's hand slaps onto hers, she swiftly immobilizes that arm also.

Artemis stares directly at him even while he's looking down between them, processing her unwavering grip over his shield. The shock at being so easily predicted, so easily neutralized, while minute, is telltale in the slight widening of his eyes. In the next instant, he looks up to her face. This time, Percy's jaw drops. "Luna-?"

She leans forward, and her lips are on his.

The goddess yanks him in closer as she turns into his lips with more aggression, and her nerves across her entire body can't help but scream in delight when he adjusts to respond softly.

And then his hands are cradling her head, gently pushing her away, even as he pulls back himself.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds.

She blinks rapidly as she refocuses, assessing what happened.

In the overwhelming instant of the contact, he'd extricated his hands from her loosened hold, and taken advantage of her … _distraction_ to maneuver away.

"I," Percy breathes out, "think I owed you that one." His hands drift from her head, and he flexes his left instinctively, before they come to rest rigidly at her shoulders, holding her in place, apart from him. He pauses, then closes his eyes, breathing unevenly. "But before anything else, _Artemis_, I really need to know what the absolute fuck is going on."

With him before her, everything she's imagined that she might say to him when they met again over for the past two months flees her mind.

There was not another thing in the sky or another person in the garden - with good reason. The air was hot and heavy, the unfettered sun harsh and unforgiving. And, almost as if in spite, the surrounding flora flourished magnificently, even though weighed down by the oppressive heat.

None of it is conducive to her rationale. Her hands fidget as she pulls them to her sides, and she swallows thickly as thoughts slip between her fingers. "Uhm-"

"Should I ask the questions?" asks Percy, head slightly cocked as he examines her critically. Her eyes try to meet his, but they can't hold his gaze before wavering away.

"Uhm- yes- it's just- I-" The words cascade out of her mouth as Artemis tries to reestablish some sense of self-control. "I- since when? Wha-?"

Thankfully, Percy understands her well enough. "It wasn't that hard to figure out after you left. I had a few hunches … anyway, the gods were smart enough to keep it as quiet as possible. It helps that both you and I had been under the radar for a while already." He rubs his thumb against her shoulder, before taking her arm and leading her to a sitting position on the grass. "By that, I mean the Hunters never being in the public eye. And me not being unlucky or doing anything stupid that would get attention. Besides a breakup, I guess."

"The people around us were … _convinced_ that you were some minor god. Annabeth too, though I wouldn't put it past her to put the pieces together. I dunno, I haven't talked with her since." Percy settles down opposite of her, hands drifting down along her bare arm until his hands cusp one of hers. He looks down at it contemplatively. "But word has gotten out that you're missing. Your Hunt is searching for you. Only Hermes is on the lookout, though. Apparently only a few know some of the exact details of what's going on: Lord Zeus, Father, and Aphrodite."

Artemis shivers, and hides her face behind her other hand. She'd erased every footprint, physical and metaphysical. Overkill, because no one else knew half the signs to track as well as she did, and she'd covered all of them. No one could hunt her down if she went into hiding. Only Apollo could find her with his ridiculous precognition powers, but he still didn't have access to them. She could feel it.

Percy looks back to her, and Artemis feels one of his hands tense before it's gone in a flash. Nothing as bad as him feeling her every tremble - where did all her strength go? "There was a bit of a … private interrogation, let's say, by Zeus. Thankfully, I didn't know anything that would get me in trouble. Father explained some things to me after, though I'd guessed enough at that point." Acute green searches timid silver, and the silver slides away under the pressure. "Surprisingly, Aphrodite hasn't said anything to anyone. Anyone else, that is. She swore to me on the River Styx she had nothing to do with my relationships. That no one did."

Everything implied by that statement hangs in the air, toxic and irrefutable.

"Which leaves only two people left. My own relationship troubles are my own little … issue." He finally lets go of her, straightens his back, and rests his chin on his fists. "And Annabeth's, I suppose," he adds on as an afterthought. "But ignoring that, independent. My own little thing. I wasn't influenced at all. So that leaves _you_."

Artemis's now free hand fiddles at the fabric of her shorts, and she peeks under her hand to stare at the black denim under her fingertips. Anywhere but at his eyes. Still, she feels his pervasive gaze boring into her soul, and she squirms in discomfort.

"Eight weeks of silence. And you show up _today_, out of nowhere. And how am I going to deal with Reyna later? Jeez, I hope she hasn't started some search party. Crap." He rolls his neck, and the violent cracks that fill the air make her flinch.

"Wait. I got this thing now." He pulls something (a phone?) from his pants pocket. "I'll text Reyna before she does anything crazy, and I beg you" - a hand brushes away hers, and pulls her chin up so she's staring at him in the eyes, where she can see the depths imploring her for some sense, some answer - "talk to me. Get yourself together. Please. I need - I need to understand."

"I'm-" He takes a shaky breath, dropping his hand. "I'm really trying to hold it together right now, because b**** f****** h**** a** t_*** g***d***** c*** a** c*** asina irrumabo stercore sumen gallus γαμώ κόλαση σκατά __**γάιδαρος γαμημένος σκύλα!**_"

The curses tumble out of his mouth with increasing vehemence but decreasing volume, until it's only a vicious murmur. Nonetheless, the sheer ferocity startles Artemis as she stares at his frustrated face, frightened and wide-eyed.

Percy visibly calms himself, shoulders rolling back and falling in a sigh. "Sorry - jus- I needed that. Just - it would help if you got yourself together, because I'm lost enough with all this shit as it is, and now you're here, and it's just -"

He stands. "Lemme just tell Reyna not to worry. Please have something to say when I come back." He turns abruptly and blazes through the garden, not looking back once before stopping just as suddenly ten yards away.

She's screwed up beyond belief. She'd never been in a worse position in all her life. Not in the Ancient times, not in the years following, not even being captured by Atlas or being stuck on Delos.

Because this time, there's no one on her side, no one that she can trust. And no one she can blame for not trusting in her. If the details got out - and out they would almost inevitably go - her Hunters would feel betrayed. No Olympians would rely on her again. Her almost pristine reputation, gone. Her life's edict, her entire identity as the Virgin Huntress, as Artemis, compromised by the catastrophe of the Summer Solstice.

She'd known the implications of her actions, but the consequences only now dawn on her with talking to Percy again.

Artemis observes Percy, the rhythmic rise and fall of his arms as he types away. He's dressed almost formally - a light blue dress shirt and khakis, even a tie. It's as if he's in the same clothes he wore to the dance, but in different colors. That, and a bit of a darker tan. And longer hair. Though the entire ensemble, his appearance - it feels messy. Unkempt.

He turns back to face her, and she blushes as he pauses to examine her in return. If he'd hardly changed since their last meeting, then she was hardly the same person. While Percy was still dressed reasonably formally, for whatever reason, she'd just worn what felt comfortable and unassuming. A silver blouse, olive dixie shorts, white tennis shoes, and letting her hair down so that she could blend in within New Rome. Although she'd kept her skin impossibly porcelain in the sunny weather.

She rubs her arms, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.

Percy walks back, methodical and unhurried now. But he goes on a detour long before reaching her, making his way through the garden until he's sitting on a backless stone bench fifteen feet away, across a patch of petunias comprised of every color. He makes no motion for her to come closer, no indication of invitation at all. And so she remains sitting on the grass, looking up at him as she desperately gathers her thoughts. He's frustratingly silent as he settles down, pulling up his legs underneath him, and leaning his head into his right hand. Then …

"_Why_?"

The question is quiet, but Artemis hears it clearly through the humming bees. She struggles with her response, not sure where to begin, but then his questions continue.

"Why were you there at the Winter Solstice? Why'd you lie to me about who you were? Why'd you not say anything at Camp Half Blood? Why all the Iris messages? Was it all just a lie?"

The questions are delivered without any listlessly, without any emotion backing them. And Artemis can't help but reflect to the last time she'd met Percy as Artemis, where their differences had kept him so excruciatingly distant. After all the progressing intimacy, when she'd been Luna - and now, only the shock cold of realism.

The goddess can't help but furiously wipe at her eyes as she finally answers.

"I- I never lied about who I was." She gasps quietly as she finishes the sentence. Seeing him open his mouth, she hurries on. "Please, just - just let me speak."

After a quick appraisal, he nods slowly. Artemis tucks her legs to the side, and shoves her hands into her lap. "I, I hate lying. I don't lie. Lies - lies are for the incompetent. It's just- I- I got caught up with everything, and it just consumed me, and even now-" she inhales sharply, "even now, all the emotions, it's just so overwhelming. I didn't mean for all this to happen, but I didn't know how to stop any of it, I didn't want to stop any of it-"

Another breath. He's listening to her, at least.

"It's not like I'm not Luna - I am Luna, it's just another name, it's always been me-" A final, sharp, intake. She can't keep talking on like this. From the beginning, coherently. What did he ask first?

"I'd- I was there during the Winter Solstice because I couldn't stand staying at Olympus. I'd gone down to Central Park because it was close, convenient. It was familiar, it was nature. And then I found you - or you found me - and then I got caught up in trying to understand you better, and it was so much easier forgetting myself. And, and you made it so easy to, and then by the end … by the end, I was happy just to not care for anything … anything but be happy."

Artemis wipes away a few tears before they can leave her eyes. Her eyes refocus on Percy, who's straightfaced but clearly engrossed in her words.

"I didn't know what to do after you pulled me from the water, and one thing led to another, and I hadn't really gone on from there expecting anything else. I thought you'd be like the usual male, even though you'd proven me wrong so many times already, didn't expect you to try and keep in touch, and by the time I'd found you in Camp Half Blood I was too scared of trying to reveal I was also Luna. You were troubled then, how was I to predict how you would react?"

"And for the Iris Messages - I was only too happy to be distracted from everything else. I didn't want to lose any of it. And then I'd finally called you on that day - well, I didn't _intend_ to. I'd been delirious enough from drinking too much to initiate an Iris Message myself, and then it had gotten redirected to you, and then just seeing you I'd opened up everything I could say without giving anything away …"

Her ramble finally trickles down, and Percy uses that moment to tentatively interject. "So." He swallows thickly, eyes both on her and in the distance, remembering. "You were actually mourning a friend's death, then."

"Y-yes," Artemis responds, shivering as she recalls the past. "Nothing was ever false - I'd actually drowned myself in that much liquor, because another Hunter actually died-" the goddess shudders again. "I just c-couldn't take another one of my followers dying."

"I've - I've never lost so many Hunters so quickly. Starting off with Zöe … and all those that perished in the defense of Olympus. And then - and then again at the Wolf House, and then near the end by fucking thrice damned Orion …" She trails off poignantly. "The Hunter have always been made up by whoever wished to join. And I've so rarely lost any, perhaps one or two a century at most. There's always been enough time to grieve, to mourn the loss. But then the wars came, on the grand cycle, and we had to be involved. So swiftly, everyone departing - even all the handmaidens that traditionally stay at Olympus and the few palaces eventually went off to battle. And I couldn't stand Olympus, seeing my empty palace, I couldn't stand Camp Half Blood, I moved the Hunt away as soon as I could …"

Artemis swipes away at a final tear. "And now there are less than a dozen left. I haven't had the heart to recruit anyone … it's too soon. Half of them were with me, and then Mar- Martha died that day, and then I went looking for comfort …"

She sees some grand realization forming in Percy's eyes, in his posture. "And then I found it. And … I've been obsessed with the source of it ever since."

"I didn't know how I could anticipate something so much. I didn't know how I could be so happy. I didn't know why I wanted to spend so much time with a male - actually, I do know the answer for all of that." She smiles, a quiet ray of moonlight. "Because of you. Even if I didn't know what I really wanted to do then. And by the time I did - well-"

Artemis's smile fades.

What else could she say? "I've … I've screwed up, so badly. I am so very sorry for all the trouble I probably caused you. I- I don't know how it came to this, but all of it - all of my actions and intentions have always been genuine. I just - just don't understand them, or what's to come … I'm trying to follow them where they go. I don't know where that will be, but I know that I feel so much more free, so much more happy, so much more _myself_ doing so. I am Luna, I've listened to all your stories and problems. I am Artemis, the goddess that's come to understand you and respect you all the more for it. I don't know where any of this is going … but I'm sorry for deceiving you."

The goddess takes one final shaky breath. She's said her piece. She'd - she'd probably said more than she'd originally wanted to reveal, but at this point it hardly mattered. She'd answered the best she could, and everything that could be said was said.

After a long minute of processing, Percy finally speaks up. "I'm … I'm sorry about the Hunters. I hadn't really realized …"

A twinge of irritation passes. Artemis despises the pity - but it's not pity, it's empathy. And she's moving on from that, as much as it hurts. "It was … it was never your place to know."

Silence falls again. The weather is no better, and sweat begins to make their clothing damp and sticky.

"Is that why you're here? After all this time? Why now? Where were you?"

"I- I've been hiding out in New Rome almost to begin with. Any divine use of power, especially transportation, is potentially traceable, and here I could stay without any of that. I could blend among the crowds, the Olympians would never expect me to hide in a city. And … and I remembered from our talks, your future plans in this city."

She swallows, concerned for that awkward admission. "I didn't know when you would arrive, especially with my … _other_ identity's origin from here possibly affecting your decision. But then, serendipitously, I saw you at the library. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do, and it was too risky to follow you. I couldn't find where you'd gone after, but then you were there again the next week. I left another week to be sure, and try to figure out what to say, but I'd been too scared."

"Today, today I just went for it. In retrospect, it was foolish … but I don't think anyone will search New Rome for me after that bit of teleportation. I suppose … oh, this is so embarrassing …" Artemis pulls up her legs, and buries her face in her knees.

…

"What now, then?" Percy asks unevenly.

…

"I don't know," Artemis whispers, but her voice carries nonetheless. "I was hoping you would know."

The goddess hears the discordant grind of hands clenching, the click of his jaw tightening, the muttered curse under his breath.

She flinches as he finally explodes.

"How is this fair? _Irrumabo_, gods damned a-" He cuts himself off, before staring at her accusingly. "You ruined the night for me, did you know that? No, you ruined the sky for me. Every time I'm outside, I see the sky, and just look up and see you. Or I don't see you. Whenever, day or night. I see you, in the hours before twilight as you phase in, or through the night, or in the morning, as you phase out, and feel _reassured_. Even when it's a new moon, when I can't see you at all, that I can look up in the day and know you're _there_. Or when I know you're not, I just feel fucking _worse_."

"Did you expect this to work out? These relationships aren't ever _fulfilling_, even my _mom_ moved on! I don't even - I'm here, all myself, trying to deal with this, and you're not even all here, I can't even have _all_ your attention because you're a _goddess_, you can't even be here in your _complete form_-"

"No." She can't do much besides feel guilty for all the pain she's caused him, and let him let out his anger justifiably, without divine retribution. But she can't let this point slide.

Percy stops in his tracks, likely because he just remembered she's a goddess. And it makes her feel all the worse, wielding such power over him, unintentionally but undeniably affecting how he acts with her. He simmers, silent and unwilling to interrupt her. "I don't … allow my presence to be invoked like other gods do. I have long learned my lessons where the others do not - I don't let prayers get to my head, I have distanced myself from the trivialities of the mortal world, I am past claiming superiority over mortals. How - how do I explain …?

"Gods assume their divine form when they're a singular being. And you've learned that seeing a god's form is lethal. But the divine form _can_ be seen by mortals. It's just a matter of us consciously limiting the metaphysical loose energies. The others are too … arrogant to bother with self restraint." Artemis can't help but snort a little, despite the current atmosphere. "It's a badge of power, a casual display that forces mortals to avert their eyes from us, just because we can. For there is naught else they can do in our divine apathy. Amensalism, taken to the twelfth degree."

"But I've, I've hated that. After … maturing, and learning to restrain my temper from the ancient days, there was no place else I wished to be but with my Hunt. Even t-they, with my blessing, couldn't look at my form. So I learned how to control that power, and I've remained my cohesive self for over two millennia. Even for the Greek and Roman divide, the Romans almost never invoked Diana over the course of history. The Romans never talk about my Hunt. So I stayed with my Hunters … and …"

"So I am here, all of myself. With you. With all these … emotions, because of you."

No.

"For you."

Percy releases a directionless, irritated growl. "What am I supposed to do, though? What can I do? You are _the_ virgin goddess. Like, who else? Hestia? Not even Athena, because of all her children, but you are the _untouchable_. What will I do, what will _you_ do when some details of a relationship get out? What will your Hunters do, what would the other gods do? What if they try to screw with me, what if they try to screw with _you_?"

He stands, insistent on making a point. "How are you even sure? Is it even _worth_ it, is it even _right_? Whatever your feelings, I don't - I don't think we should be together."

The words fall heavier than the sky on her shoulders.

"Bu-? wha-?" Artemis doesn't know if she's yelling, or screaming, or laughing, or crying. All she knows is that she's know standing now, vibrating with confused outrage, despising the distance they put between them beyond measure. "Why? I -"

"Well what's the point? Like, why _me_? Do you know how long whatever would last? Do you even really know your own feelings? How is this fair, Lu- Artemis?"

Are those tears on her face? "I'm in love with you! I'm in love with you, alright?!"

But then, for all his earlier vehemence, Percy responds with nothing. He only stands there, across the rich and ponderous petunias, with next to no visible reaction. Only … only the most minute of frowns. His eyes glimmer with night, the same utterly inscrutable emotions as before.

"DON'T YOU GET IT?" The goddess darts, stomps, darts through the bloom, tearing up the flowers and apathetically knocking aside a small statue underfoot in her disregard for everything. Everything, that is, but Percy.

Artemis dives into his chest, arms up and hands clutching her head - then, with fists raised and ready to pummel him, she screams her soul out deep into his heart. "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU BLOODY FUCKING BAST-"

And then delicately, delicately, Percy snatches her hands from the air, as if they had no strength or force or power or reason behind them to begin with. She stares down, ashamed, before tracking his left hand with her eyes as he gently pulls her right hand between their stomachs. Then, heart beating out of her chest, Artemis turns her head to watch as he lets go, to use both hands to bring her other hand up to his face, twisting it to face him when reaches chest-level.

Their gazes meet, and silver and confused and despairing and embarrassed locks on emerald and tranquil and anxious and lamenting.

He lowers his head to meet her by the forehead, then, oh so excruciatingly slowly, pulls her hand closer to his mouth, and then kissing her where her palm meets her wrist. No - not quite kissing - resting his dry lips on her tingling skin, while her slack fingers tremble over his now closed eyes.

"And I- … oh, fuck me … and I- love- you."

Artemis almost missed the whisper, the disjointed phrase that falls from his lips. She more feels the declaration as puffs of air against her skin than anything she consciously hears, but her insides both freeze ice cold and melt red hot all the same.

She's absolutely certain she heard them.

And now, at that thought, her insides seize and revolt, as if her organs lurched. A tingling wave of electricity consumes her whole body.

Percy drops her hand, and it falls to rest on his chest. He takes a deep breath, which Artemis unconsciously mirrors.

Then he seizes her by the head and kisses her, fervid and determined. Artemis's eyes flash open in shock, completely taken aback, before fluttering half-lidded as she reciprocates with all her soul. One of his hands finds its way to her back, still drawing her into his body almost painfully, and she clutches at his shirt, trying to find some grip to hold onto in the tumultuous deluge of passion.

Fuck the world and fuck the gods and fuck the Hunt. She wants the person that's making her spirit swell beneath her skin, the person that's making her heart touch heaven and hell, the person that's drowning her with passion she only hopes she can reciprocate.

She wants Percy.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes softly shut and breathing wildly. Artemis gasps for air too. Her bewilderment from before the kiss now feels like nirvana, compared to the conflicting feelings she's flooded by now.

And after another eternity, his eyes open and he relinquishes his grip on her body. Their eyes lock once more. Percy takes a shaky, measured, breath - far more composed than the shuddering nigh-heaves that makes her feel so out of control. His hands ghost down her from before resting around her waist, as hers find their way to his shoulders - just like at the fateful solstice.

Then he pulls her closer, steps in closer, wrapping his hands behind her lower back as her arms fall to snake their way through his embrace to cusp his upper back, and their heads find their way to the groove of the other's neck.

Finally, he raises an arm to pat and rub her head, before raising his own head and pulling Artemis in tighter, almost painfully close. Still comforting away, Percy holds her head to his chest, where she listens to the gradually calming pulse of his heart as his chest rumbles with his unhurried, repeated, admission.

"And I love you."

Artemis opens her eyes to stare out across Percy, to where a statue of Bacchus watches them almost in accusation - and closes her eyes once more. She settles into place, taking in the glorious warmth that Percy emanates. It soothes her hyperactive body, even if her thoughts remain delirious.

"Fucking Athena," she hears him whisper. "Fucking fatal flaw."

Percy partially disentangles himself from her to move over the bench, and she follows suit. A leg on each side, he sits, and Artemis lowers herself over him, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

She can't remember the last time she'd given or received personal affection. At least, besides with Percy. It's been so long, and the wondrous _rush_ of contact is the most addictive drug.

It's there, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, face turned outwards, that she listens to him speak. That she listens with a breaking heart.

"This just - it can't work. What - what are we supposed to do? I've loved getting to know you, getting to spend time with you, but I don't even know if we enjoy the same things. And even then - am I supposed to join you and the Hunt? But that would be staying, and all those Ancient Laws say you aren't supposed to. And me going about my life, getting old, getting a job or something - how will that work out? When I grow up, what if you don't want to stay anymore? What if things change?" He pauses, sighing. His heart is beating like a drum, pulsing into the rhythm of her own.

"No. Things will change. Things always change. I'll change. I'll grow." She can his muscles warp on her skin, feel his face twist into some distorted version of a smile. "But you won't. But you won't. Because gods don't change."

He repeats his statement again - no, he amends it. "Because gods can't change."

Artemis flinches, her embrace tightening. Her mind flashes back to that first night, to that soul-condemning dance, to her desperate belief in that glorious midnight that things could be different. That things for her weren't absolute, that she could change.

"Right? Didn't you say?" He chuckles bitterly, and his own cuddle constricts around her. "And it's because of that that things won't work. I see what you mean now, when you said gods couldn't change. You just get … _immortalized_ as who you are. You get stuck."

But … didn't she change? If she hadn't, would she even be here in this situation?

"You'll be stuck while I keep changing. Son of the Sea, hm? It's in my nature."

What would happen if she changed?

"But my fatal flaw is loyalty - I know - I know that I will care, I know I will love you forever. But my forever _ends_. Your forever, though … can you say the same?"

Her lips begin to move in response, even though she doesn't know her answer yet. But then he grabs at back, bunching up her blouse underneath his fists, and she stops. The sun above burns on her skin, hotter than ever.

"Don't - don't answer. Because if you couldn't love me forever, it wouldn't be worth it. And if you could … then I love you too much to let you hurt yourself that way."

Her limbs are too weak to keep him from leaving. And with a final, far too tender kiss on her forehead, Percy does exactly that.

The problem of immortality … is that there is too much time.

Artemis weeps.


	26. Refrain V2 C6 Divinity's Death

"_There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." George Carlin_

* * *

The sky burns a rich, bloody ombre. The clouds char black before layers of amber light, even as the sun dips past the distant horizon.

Artemis watches steadily, not making a single sound. She is comfortable where she is, as timeless and ageless as the cycles she both witnesses and represents. Her arms loosely hug her right leg, with her other leg tucked beneath.

It's picturesque, sitting at the edge of a churning waterfall, gazing beyond to the sunset.

In her current position, she would've been exposed enough to be considered scandalous in her classic tunic. But times change - Artemis is dressed in modern sensibilities. Silver long sleeves, jeans, tennis shoes, and an oversized but nonetheless cozy olive army jacket.

The goddess has nothing against contemporary fashion. She wears it often enough, after all, as they are simply designed better for outdoor wear and tear, and various climates and environments. She does not _dislike_, per se. But she _likes_ the more archaic tunic, as impractical and strange it would be to wear today. A return to form, a quiet simplicity and freedom.

Alas, sacrifices must be made. Clothing is hardly noteworthy, at best. Everything is predicated on what happens next, all the chips are down - she must be prepared for what's to come.

Or rather, what she hopes is to come.

Hopefully this works. There isn't a set formula for what she's about to do.

Some things are clear. Sundown is appropriate. It is not her moon, but her soul is its last quarter. Not visible until past midnight. Its phase is quite fitting … but ultimately subservient to more immediate, more relevant, more _powerful_ auspices.

The setting sun is that - partially. The concept of constancy, of balance, is more prevalent in the tandem of day and night by the sun. Artemis has long accepted the sun's supremacy in that matter. It is as it should be. The moon, on the other hand, is about change.

Change, and insanity. Also appropriate.

Nevertheless, it is not that every sunset is so relevant. Today's, Artemis rationalizes, is only so due to its tandem with the autumnal equinox.

Now is a multiplicity of shifts - the fall of day before night, as nights begin to outlast days.

A wolf howl pierces the rumble of the waterfall, soon followed by a familiar series of harmonizations. A special, almost distinctive call, taught to her hunting companions. Artemis doubts anyone but her can recognize the exact pattern anymore, and the subcontext of the modulations that conveyed information on the target.

In this case: Singular. No scent. Two hundred meters. Stationary. Female. Extremely powerful. Approach with caution.

Artemis had given up on covering her tracks weeks ago. Essentially, she'd gone from _absolutely _untraceable to _almost _untraceable.

She'd known her Hunt was on her tail for the past few days. She had stayed in the general area of this falls for a week, so it was unsurprising that someone finally got close. And it was … right, that it was her Hunt to do so. Only Zeus would know how she would respond to someone else finding her, or, Father forbid, _Apollo_ finding her.

That tangent - her brother - yanks at her thoughts, distracting Artemis even as she senses her Hunters closing in.

It had been a year since she's felt her brother's presence.

For all the crap she'd gotten shoved in her lap by Apollo, for all her anger at his idiotic mistake - scratch that, mistakes - he'd been a good sibling. Their issues had never been any direct grievance, and for all their fighting, it was always just the quintessential squabbles of siblinghood.

Wasn't that funny? It's the end, and her last thoughts are of her brother. Not quite the end, but who cared about the semantics?

What wonderful irony, that it's her brother that led her to this point. Even with Percy's … reasoning behind not being together, she would have never considered the option she's taking now without the example of her twin.

The sun is so low that everything between her and the sun are only silhouettes, pure shadow.

Perhaps she'll see him again in the next life.

With that morbid thought, she _twists -_ and then slips over the edge. Carried by the water, down into the darkness.

It's barely a drop, the waterfalls being as small as they are. A path diverged, one continuing, the other into, according to mortals, the unknown.

In that moment, in that fall, Artemis catches a glimpse of her Hunt, bursting out into the clear, a name of Thalia's lips - and then she's gone.

The only sign that Artemis was ever there is a single arrow embedded into the rock, with a damp note attached, fluttering in the breeze.

* * *

Past the initial rush, beyond the reach of sunlight, the black that swallows Artemis is absolute. Eyes wide shut, she sees nothing. It's impossible to even know if there is any light emanating from her silver aura. She can only hear the sound of rushing water be replaced by whistling wind, and feel her stomach heave as she falls and falls and falls and falls and falls …

There are dozens and dozens of passageways into the Underworld, known and not. Those not monitored always share one characteristic - the risk of traveling through.

The wind whipping by her ears sounds vast - the hole must have widened after the initial entry point. Artemis spreads her arms and legs into freefall position, doing her best to slow her descent.

Decades ago, she'd smelled the vile and unmistakable aroma of the Underworld at that waterfall. It had just been a curiosity at the time. The fact that a possible entry to Hades's realm existed had filtered to the back of her mind, amongst the many hunting grounds and trails she remembered.

When Artemis realized she required a method to get to the Underworld undetected for her plans, she'd immediately thought of the strange waterfall. After a few days of investigation and probing, the goddess verified that the hole in the Earth literally reached hell (she'd manifested an arrow then dropped it, and eventually, her sixth sense told her the shaft of moonlight had hit rock bottom). Whether she could pass through both safely and under the radar was a different question altogether.

A question Artemis really wishes she had the answer to, as she continues to fall. She doesn't dare use any of her powers anymore - anything like transforming or extending her senses is akin to ringing her Uncle's doorbell.

The wind is getting louder, funneling up - she can feel the rock around her tapering, narrowing. How close would the walls get? Flicking knives from her sleeves, the goddess takes a deep breath and clenches her jaw. Closing her eyes, she reverses her grip and performs a single overhead stab, driving a silver blade into the rock.

As her upper half begins to slow, her lower half continue at the same speed. As a result, the rest of her body flies toward the wall. In a second, lower stab, Artemis keeps herself from splattering against the wall, though she's sure she's caused some internal bleeding from a knife handle to the gut.

Still her momentum continues on, and her blades carve their way through the earth as she holds on, tighter than death. Despite her supernatural strength and body, it's as if her arms are being torn off.

She's a goddess - she can survive smashing into the Underworld at 120 miles per hour. Nonetheless, Artemis prefers all the abuse her arms can take to that prospect.

It takes a minute of pulverizing stone and screeching metal, bleeding palms and slippery handles, and sore arms and heaving breaths for her to grind to a halt. Artemis doesn't know how long she waits to recover, but she chides herself back into action when shrapnel no longer rains from above.

Opening her eyes, she blinks as she realizes she can see again. The silver light of her aura is unrepentant, revealing to her eyes the golden ichor dripping from her palms, and the deep, vicious gouges in the stone before her. Swallowing thickly, she looks down to her feet, and her eyes widen in surprise as they adjust to the tiniest hint of blue-ish light below her. It's a pinprick, hundreds of feet down, and she can't tell where it opens to.

But where else could she go?

Artemis half-heartedly tugs at her knives, hoping to keep her weapons. But she has neither the strength nor the leverage for it.

The goddess groans as she lets go of a knife, hanging on by only her right arm. Flexing, she lets her last knife drop down her sleeve.

But before she can do anything else, her grip slips, and she plummets. Trying to stab into the wall again rattles her entire arm, and her left hand spasms, causing her to lose that blade as well.

Fuck.

The ground approaches. She can already feel the agonizing pain of impact.

She can't look. Artemis rolls into a ball, hoping for the best.

* * *

When Artemis is conscious again, she's exactly where she wants to be.

The Styx was the border between Earth and the Underworld. Every passage always leaves the visitor on the other side of the river.

Ignoring the pain echoing throughout all of her body, she stands and stares into the polluted waters, looking more made of broken dreams than liquid.

Artwork after contract after diploma after corsage after toy after dress after rin-

She steps into the shallows, picking out a silver ring before it can drift too far. Its design is simple, but the most obvious feature is a gash in the metal.

Her hopes and dreams shall not share the same fate.

Artemis drops the silver band, before flinching (painfully) in surprise when another hand rises from the river to catch it.

A young girl made only of inky water rises from beneath the layers of debris.

"What brings you here, Lady Artemis?" Styx gurgles disinterestedly, her liquid gaze unfathomable.

"I- I come to forswear my oath." There is no more room for hesitation - Artemis has done too much, gone too far for all to come to naught. The river goddess shall not faze her now.

"Oh?" Styx replies, montone. "That's new. You only have the one oath, and you have yet to even break it. Not that anyone takes the consequences seriously anymore. No one has drank from my waters in over a millenia."

Artemis focuses through the pain, looking at Styx in the eye. "I know you can do much more than that, Styx. I was not there, but my brother …"

Styx tilts her head, finally reacting. "I suppose I should be surprised, but twins have always been been different." She facepalms, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "And that suggests your wish is to do the same. Reckless. Foolhardy. Insane."

Artemis nods, ignoring Styx's comments.

"Do what you will, then, Artemis …" The goddess gives her one last watery look. "I respect your conviction, if nothing else. You have my blessing," she adds, almost mournfully. Then Styx's presence disappears, and the body of water she inhabited loses form, splashing down back into the river.

All alone now. The goddess presses forward, and stops as the water reaches her waist.

The water is more turbulent here, and the magical properties within are finally making themselves known. Her legs are tingling unpleasantly - it's not hurting her, but the sensation is alien and strange.

Time to embrace it.

Artemis turns around, facing the shore she left moments before.

She closes her eyes, and remembers.

She remembers her birth, and her brother's birth.

She remembers arriving at Olympus.

She remembers her oath to her father.

She remembers the parts already broken: swearing to oversee childbirth, to stay away from the cities; or obsolete: her Cyclops forged weapons, the loss of her companions …

Time for the rest to become mere memory.

"I renounce my names," Artemis begins, whispering. She lowers her hands into the river, letting them trail off in the current.

"Aeginaea. Lygodesma. Naupactus. Agoraea. Argrotera. Aphaea. Potnia Theron. Kourotrophos. Locheia. Cynthia. Amarynthia. Phoebe. Alphaea. Anaitis. Apanchomene."

So many names that she'd asked for in vain, to distinguish herself from Apollo.

How infantile.

"Phaesphoria."

She shudders, reciting this one in particular. It's the only one she'd wanted specifically, the only one that had any meaning to her to begin with and any meaning left.

But it had to go.

"I renounce my titles," Artemis says, voice softer than before. "Artemis of the Wildlands. Mistress of the Animals. Bringer of the Moon."

She gasps, a wet breath that restrains the tears at the corners of her eyes. "Goddess of the Hunt."

Something incorporeal is leaving her, something she knows she will never know. Something beyond her understanding, beyond anyone's understanding.

Her final ties, shattering.

Artemis smiles, a fragmented expression that conveyed something irrevocably broken … but also something undeniably happy.

Her final words are spoken conversationally, undercutting their weight. Not that it mattered.

"I renounce my maidenhood. I renounce my godhood. I renounce my immortality."

And with that, she falls into the Styx.

* * *

All her pain is … gone, washed away. It's so comfortable in the waters.

Artemis wants to fall asleep. It seems so easy, to just drift off, fade away …

It would be nice to just disappear. No more weight on her shoulders, no more worries, no more pain … Just forget who she is.

_Alrighty then_, a familiar voice said. And _I thought I was the idiot._

A shock passes through her system, and her eyes jolt open. She's no longer drowsy, and the Styx tears her away downstream, tumbling her end over end.

"I guess you actually fell in the water this time." It's Percy's voice, much clearer now. "Hey, don't drown on me now. You don't wanna be the damsel in distress, do ya?"

Her eyesight sharpens, her body is reinvigorated. Artemis resists the rapids, looking up to the surface. Percy's there, peering through a hole in the sheets of ice. He's holding in a chuckle, in his camp clothing and dripping wet.

"Well, how about it, Moonbeam?" He smiles. "Come on. Take my hand."

And the memories come flooding back, sharper and more vivid than ever before. She was here for a reason, and she's done. It's time to go.

She reaches up and takes his hand.

Artemis bursts out of the river, out of a hole in the ocean, and lands on the rocky shore.

She groans - everything hurts again - and props herself up. Everything's too bright - she uses a hand to block out the sun - the sun?

Her eyes adjust, and she moves her arm just in time to see the sun descend behind the Pacific Ocean.

Blinking in surprise, Artemis rubs her eyes - but no, she's actually here.

Then she turns her attention to her stinging hands, red rivulets of blood trickling down her arm -

What?

She flips her hand, and her palm is crimson, blood leaking from her self-inflicted wounds.

It's too much.

She blacks out.


	27. Refrain V2 C7 Cloud's Rest

"_We were together. I forget the rest." Walt Whitman_

* * *

Lightly, lightly. Steady breaths.

Heel to toe, heel to toe.

It's strange, needing to exercise. Regular physical exertion is nothing unfamiliar, of course it's not. Though her endurance is (understandably) far less than what it once was. Thankfully, her strength is more than sufficient for even a … _bad _day, if necessary. She just can't, say, fight continuously for a few days anymore. Or, in that regard, go without sleep whatsoever anymore.

Artemis has already pulled off a few all-nighters, even consecutively - but it's very unpleasant. She hadn't realized she _needed_ to sleep at first until she'd conked out in the middle of a forest.

Much like she'd later gone without any exercise for two weeks, and then she'd noticed her body getting out of shape.

That had surprised her, actually frightened her. As a goddess, she did occasionally sleep. Very rarely, perhaps, and in a context mortals would fail to comprehend, but she had experienced sleep. Even restrooms and menstruation, however embarassing, were immediately intuitive. Yet gaining weight, visibly getting fatter and affecting her athleticism?

Artemis had panicked for well over a day until she realized what the problem. Honestly, given the overweight nature of the mortals that surrounded her, and the sheer amount of gyms, sports venues, and bikers and joggers, she maybe should've known the issue and solution sooner.

It was a little inconvenient to _need_ to exercise to stay fit, and not be able to go on stretches of time to remain healthy and look as she wished. She'd known her corporeal form would be locked when she became mortal, and adjusted accordingly. She understands that time and age will cause changes, and she believes she can handle that. Artemis just never considered the factor of _maintaining_ her appearance, or her body's condition.

Sure, she's probably equivalent to a very powerful demigod at this point, having a great metabolism and literally a god's amount of experience. Great "natural" gifts, with her being unlikely to get sick as long as she remains physically fit.

Artemis just never needed to _work _for that. It's not that it's hard to, or that she doesn't do so in her usual activities. She enjoys physical exertion on a normal basis, _obviously_. As a goddess, as of now, she can't resist going out for a dash through nature.

But other things did take precedence sometimes. Things like recovering items from several dead drops. Or relocating bolt holes. Or establishing a proper identity. All uneventful but necessary things she needs to sacrifice her "exercise" time for.

She's honestly underestimated the sheer tedium of some of the things she's had to do, but at least most of it is out of the way. Moving possessions around is a pain without the ability to teleport anywhere she wishes. So many minor trivialities that just get in the way.

At least she had a magical bag to move everything at once. Having very few possessions also helps - few worthwhile possessions, at least. Beyond all the stashes of weapons she needs to collect, there's only a few dozen sets of clothing and books.

Really, she'd have gone out jogging earlier. But a thick fog had swallowed the city, and sure, the winter winds only just cleared that mess out. But the fogs wouldn't keep her from going out and about - in fact, she enjoys the environment change even more. It's just that had been the perfect time to sneak onto Olympus for her last (for lack of a better word) re-acquisitions trip.

Clearing her head out with some jogging after that little adventure is a treat.

The adventure itself, though … the sheer blast of adrenaline from infiltrating her former home was exhilarating. The thrill of danger and excitement, the palpable risk of discovery now that she's mortal - oh, _wow_. Sneaking around was both unexpectedly and expectedly easy, to be quite honest, but none of that had negated the absolute rush of the occasion.

All it took was some silver clothing, and no one question her. The floor security "guard" let her up after she said "Hunter business," and after that she had free reign. Besides a few actual Hunters milling about her palace that she ducked around, Artemis had an easy time retrieving all the belongings she still wanted. Between all the magical clothing, enchanted weaponry, and a whole library, and too much ambrosia and nectar (for first aid reasons - she can't indulge anymore), she'd managed to retrieve quite a lot. Things were made a bit simpler by those preparing for or even already celebrating the solstice, but she'd essentially just walked in and walked out.

Frankly, though, there were a lot more silver clothed females around than she last remembered. And there were none that she recognized, save one.

Thalia looked a bit stressed, a bit busy. Her former lieutenant was dealing with things left and right, directing Hunter after Hunter to do one thing or another.

Artemis wishes her good fortune. Thalia doesn't need it, Artemis is confident she knows what she's doing. But it doesn't hurt.

With that, Artemis pushes all thoughts of her no longer relevant past out of her mind.

No point dwelling on things from the past any more than absolutely necessary. There is nothing she can change about it - she will mourn what she has mourned, and she will wonder what she can wonder, but she will not regret.

She's regret enough. Time is too short to bother with regret now.

Hm. There's a hint of death and dog fur, and just the slightest rustling. Not breaking her stride in the least, Artemis pulls an arrow from her leggings pocket with her right hand, then nocks it on a hair tie around her left wrist. Yanking sharply, the tie snaps, and a bow forms from the break. She rolls her hand and fixes her grip, then launches the arrow off into the foliage with nary a glance.

A low whine reaches her ears, and the beast flees through the shadows.

Damn. The kill shot should've been easy, but she'd screwed up the fletching of her arrow severely while pulling it from her pocket. Artemis needs to practice drawing from it more.

A magical quiver that could be inserted into a pocket is good for incognito purposes, and there had been a few here and there. They weren't as accessible as a standard quiver, though. Even a hip quiver was more convenient for hunting. But in the midst of a metropolitan city? Artemis can't pull arrows out of light anymore, not without exhausting herself after a dozen. Pocket quiver it was.

Another task for the to-do list, then. Something for another time. For now … Artemis relaxes her hand, opening her palm, and the bow shrinks back around her pale wrist. She stops abruptly without a sound, all forward movement instantly seizing.

Every single one of her runs in Central Park always end up here. Here, by the reservoir, no matter what path she takes, her feet carry her to the false lake. And judging by the current trend, she'll stand here for a few minutes, hoping to see Percy pop out of the water and greet her.

Maybe he'll actually be here today. Maybe he'll ditch the solstice again. Maybe he's waiting, hoping to see her too …

A girl can dream.

Artemis leans against a maple tree, (dis)content to wait longer today. It's a bit cold - her silver tee doesn't cover her forearms, so she rubs them absently. Nothing she can't tolerate … she'll get something to warm herself up later. For now, she watches the icy waters lap against the shore, wondering when she'll be ready to hunt him down.

It should be soon. Artemis is certain Percy is home for the holidays. She has around two and a half weeks before the New Rome College starts again.

After the New Year, Artemis decides. She still needs to get things in order first.

Rumination complete, she climbs up the maple to retrieve the satchel she'd hidden there before her run, ambles her way out of the park, humming vacantly. Time is finite, yes - so she savors her walk, and the view of the subdued city. She may prefer vivid constellations and clear air, but she can appreciate the muted lights of a quieted New York City.

Sure, it never sleeps, but it's definitely more somber at nighttime in the right places.

Artemis enjoys the cooldown stroll from her two hour jog, satisfied to spend another hour getting to her next destination. She ruffles through her bag, on a routine check to ensure everything is inside. Weapons, first aid, snacks, water … she pulls out the plastic bottle for a quick draft.

Needing to staying hydrated is a pain in the ass, too, but nothing worth getting into. Immortals drank for pleasure, not necessity. Apparently, beyond feeling thirsty, not drinking water for three days killed mortals. Go figure.

Anyways. Her destination. If she has to drink, she wants it to taste good, at least. Enough water for health, then something tasty for everything else. It's only a quaint little coffee shop, but out of all the ones near the apartment she's holed up in at the moment, it's her favorite. There's just something about coffee that calls just like nature does - though maybe she wants hot cocoa today.

Also, knowing the true mythology behind the shop name just tickles her every time she sees the lettering above the entrance. Sometimes she can only marvel at just how deeply her ancient culture influences modern day mortals, outside of the more … _direct_ scenarios, like Typhon.

Even with the Mist, Artemis will never comprehend how mortals rationalized a new lake forming in rural West Virginia.

It's with this distracted thought in her head when she crashes into someone trying to leave the very establishment she's trying to enter.

"Schist - sorry about that, miss, gotta go." The boy stabilizes whatever he's holding, sparing only half a glance at her, and then he's already walking away.

Damn inconsiderate New Yorkers - if she could still polymorph people - Artemis seizes the swinging door, and the tingling entry chimes settle.

Wait. Schist?

Fuck.

Slamming the door shut, she turns around, already in motion to bolt off in the direction the person was heading -

Just to crash once again into the exact same person. This time they knock each other to the pavement, and the drinks the boy had been holding along with them.

Artemis gets to her feet, while he scrambles to salvage the cardboard drink carrier before all the drinks it holds spill. "Gods darnit! Friggin-"

"Percy?" She asks hesitantly, hand outstretched to help him up, even though she knows it's him.

And then the Son of the Sea (because it is him, it's definitely him) gives up on the drinks, letting them drain away, in favor of staring up at Artemis as if he's not sure his eyes are working right.

She can't help but smile, seeing him again, as dumbfounded as he looks crouching on the ground. No drink will warm her up more than whatever feeling growing within her right now.

He stands, not taking her hand, eyes still staring, wide and confused. "Lun- Artemis- I saw- thought it was you but- what- why-?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but words fail her - she knows whatever that will come out will be equally incomprehensible. Screw it.

She dashes in, wrapping her arms around him, pressing into the demigod as if she's trying to meld their bodies into one. And her smile widens, the warmth blossoms as he reciprocates, almost twirling her around as he redirects her sudden momentum. So many fears silenced by a single gesture.

Her skin prickles under the gaze of other mortals around them, but the feeling disappears quickly.

New York is a strange place.

Artemis doesn't know how much longer they just hold each other, standing in a puddle of coffee and hot chocolate. It must be a few minutes, but eventually Percy eases away, arms gradually pulling away. Artemis acquiesces, and then they're apart, Percy's sea-green eyes staring into hers as he gently holds her by the shoulders.

And she can't help but crack a smile again, watching him repeatedly open his mouth to ask a question, but no sound come out as he reconsiders and shuts his mouth again.

"Here." Artemis's amusement softens, deciding to pull him out of his predicament. "How about I explain everything inside?"

She pulls open the door, waiting patiently as Percy swiftly picks up the wasted drinks and throws them away. A snappy text to someone (probably his mother) and a thank you later, they're sitting in the warmly hued cafe, regarding each other over the menus on the booth table.

It somehow always ends up like this, doesn't it. But seeing him, dressed as casually as ever and a black jacket more, just taking him in … it's nice.

Music permeates the background atmosphere of the restaurant, quiet yet lively: … _Fill my heart with song - and let me sing, for-ever more … _

The waiter arriving breaks their impasse. "A hot cocoa, please," orders Artemis.

"Same thing," adds Percy, and the waiter nods and leaves.

"So." Artemis can't stop smiling, even if it's just a crooked curve at the corner of her lips. Some things are just too familiar. "Simplify things for me, tell me what you already know so I can fill in the rest."

If he's discomfited by her being so at ease, it doesn't show. "Rumor has it that you've faded. Thalia announced to Zeus that you've left everything to her just a few hours ago, and that she's to take your place. She mentioned having some note to me personally when I asked her about it after the main bit, before I left." He's being cautious, wary. But he's open to talk, and that's all she needs. "Otherwise … nothing. You just disappeared. Again. But why are you here - why now? Why - why this again?"

"Because things are different now," Artemis answers earnestly. "Because - because if," and she hesitates, hoping that all she's done isn't for nothing, "if you still have any interest in something between us, I want to take that chance. I-"

Percy sighs. "Didn't - wasn't I clear? It's not any easier for me, y'know? Frick, no, I'm definitely not over it, but it's not right if-"

And then there's her knife in her hands, handle held in her right and blade easing into the flesh of her left, sanguine life-blood weeping onto the table. Percy stares, even more stunned than before.

The waiter arrives with their refreshments then leaves, apparently not giving a single shit about the girl cutting herself in open view. Maybe the Mist is hiding things from view, maybe Artemis really did hear him mutter "I'm not paid enough for this crap" under his breath.

Ignoring her stinging palm, she snabs a napkin from a dispenser to wipe the silver blade clean, before sheathing it. Then, she pulls a bandage from her satchel (easy outside access for all the right reasons) and expertly wraps it tight around her wound.

"Anything else?" asks Artemis sweetly, smugly, nabbing her drink in and taking in a deep breath. Somehow, since she became mortal, every smell is so much the sweeter. She blows at the smoke, smiling at the twirls, then sets it down to uses another napkin to clean away her blood before it congeals. Finally, she looks back to Percy - but he's still staring at the table, at a loss for words.

Not thinking of anything she can say at the moment, she sips at her drink. Damn - if nothing else, Artemis is glad Western civilization acquired chocolate. What was it, a Central American creation, globalized only a few centuries ago? Mortals really innovated some of the strangest yet best things.

Finally, Percy speaks. "You're mortal now? Schist, I heard some people talk about Apollo … why?"

Artemis shakes her head. Sometimes he surprises her, sometimes he says the stupidest things. "Why else, silly? Because of you."

"But what about the Hunt?!" protests Percy, gesticulating wildly. "What about Olympus, what about dying? I don't want you to die because of me! N-"

The former goddess seizes one of his hands, slamming it down onto the table. "Stop being stupid, Percy, it's unbecoming of you. Stop, calm down, drink your hot chocolate before it loses all its heat."

Staring into his jittery eyes, she carefully lets him go. Artemis watches as he takes a deep breath, following her instructions, and bringing his drink to his mouth.

"Frick!" Percy shoves the drink back onto the table and half covers his mouth.

Artemis giggles at his clumsiness. "Perseus, really?" She leans back in her bench, enjoying his mock glare. "I shouldn't have to tell you to be cautious."

He sighs, slouching and ruffling his hair. After a few more seconds, he takes up the cup again and blows on it, then finally drinks. In that moment, Artemis speaks.

"I didn't make my choice lightly, my dear Perseus. Thalia will be a fine leader for the Hunt, if she can undertake the burden of immortality." She smirks, reflecting on earlier conversations. "You would know about all that, wouldn't you. If she can't, I'm sure she can pick a good replacement. But I'm done with the Hunt. I've-" Artemis laughs outright, probably throwing off Percy a little. "Oh, I never considered it this way. How ironic. I've grown out of being immature. Goddess as I was, honest in intention but nonetheless naive, I began the Hunt. And goddess as I was, I reflected humanity - forever flawed, learning so much but so little over the millennia …"

She takes another draft, relishing the heady flavor. Pleased that Percy chooses not to talk but wait, respecting her and just listening. She settles into a comfortable position, drink in one hand and the other on the table, before continuing. "Olympus will be fine. Humanity has held steadfast, and as long as mortals live, I have little doubt that the gods will live on too. Heroes have proven that well enough to me, time and time again." She waggles her eyebrows at Percy suggestively, and beams at his blush.

"And if you worry of interference from them, the Ancient Laws forbid it, now more than ever." After his questioning glance, she continues. "Immortals cannot directly attack anyone beyond their purview, only retaliate. They cannot interfere with mortals without whim - so I'm safe."

"And of death - well-" Artemis blinks in surprise when Percy reaches out to clasp her hand, then beams again, paradoxically in broken but glorious acceptance. "To end, to rest. To resolve is a gift. Haven't you said that yourself? Is it so selfish of me to seek that too, or is it so selfish of you to say that I shouldn't? Don't misunderstand me - I don't intend to die anytime soon. The idea of a future, of times to come, as a mortal is so _intoxicating_."

She pauses, making sure what she says next is right. "The idea of a future with _you_ is intoxicating."

Judging by his sharp intake of breath, she thinks it is. Her eyes are now looking anywhere but at him, and Artemis is almost glad that she's nervous. She's glad that she feels _alive_. "You were right, you are right. If I couldn't be in love wi- if I couldn't love you forever, then it wasn't enough. And I think I could have - the millennia makes things hard, but I would have given it my all. But you wouldn't be there for it. You would not extend your own life, not with your love for your mother and sister so obvious, not with how much you've fought for, sacrificed for what could construe as a normal life."

"So. Inspired by your idiocy, I chose the foolish "third" option." She outright chuckles at his affronted look. "You'd already taken away the first option from the dilemma, forcing both of us into the second. But now I say fuck you, I do things my way." And her humor fades, and all that's left is the desperate dreams of a woman in love.

"And now I'm here, hoping you will still return my affections. That you're at least willing to try, even though I don't know why you would, after all that I've made you go through. Even though I don't know why you ever loved me to begin with, with how estranged our relationship essentially always was. First half a year of sporadic conversations, and then half a year of basically nothing at all …"

She looks down at their joined hands, the connection between them.

She smiles with all the hope she will ever muster, with the understanding of everything that could go wrong, and in dead resolution to take it if it came, and not hate Percy if it happened because she could understand _why_ if it happened. She smiles with the best of nihilism, never to regret because she tried her very best, and will go down that path less taken to the very end. Because her love won't change either way, only hurt a little more. "So I understand if nothing comes of this. If you think that I've lost my immortality for nothing."

Artemis smiles radiantly, brighter than the moon will ever shine. "But no. Fuck that. Because if nothing else, it was worth being able to come here and tell you that I love you."

She downs her drink and wipes her mouth, then takes his hand in both of hers. She leans forward, finally able to meet his the sea-green depths eyes with emotions welling up behind her own silver irises, and whispers. "I love you."

And then she lowers her head and her lips meet the back of his hand, not kissing but resting there. After the moment passes, she draws back, looking down at their hands once more. She holds on loosely, giving him the agency to pull away.

Oh, sweet release. Sweet catharsis, sweet vacancy, ready to be crushed or made brilliant.

And pull back he does.

But before her smile can fall, his other hand is caressing her cheek, and she looks up, and he's there, and then they're kissing.

The world suddenly feels a lot smaller. The kiss lacks passion … and fittingly so. It's not the moment for the burning vivaciousness of life. But the companionate part is there for all to witness.

Then it's over, short and sweet, but meaning all of the universe.

"If - if that didn't answer your question …" Percy trails off, fiddling with something under the table. His sudden bashfulness, however unexpected, is also surprisingly cute. But what was he doing?

Without no celebration whatsoever, he presents a bracelet. It's elegant in its simplicity, silver twine threaded through a dozen plus pieces of sea glass, colors ranging from all the hues of the ocean, pale white to foam blue to rich indigo to a muted teal to …

It's gorgeous.

"Is that for me?" Artemis breathes.

She can't move, shocked as she is, as Percy takes her left hand and slips it on, where it slides to rest next to her hair tie. Artemis raises her arm, turning it back and forth as she stares at the symphony, no, the _aurora_ of hues that adorns her porcelain skin.

Distracted as she is, Percy finds her other hand and begins to rub circles into the back of her hand. "I've been working on it for since April," he admits. "I might've gone overboard, but even after the Summer Solstice and August I couldn't keep from adding to it. I've been wearing it, it mostly just became a keepsake because … y'know. But you're here. And it's yours."

"Thank you!" Artemis rushes out of her booth seat and into his, embracing him for all it's worth. She delights the warmth radiating from him, and the warmth spreading from her own core. She smiles into his jacket. "I take it your answer is a yes."

"No," Percy nuzzles at her hair. "My answer is an 'I love you too.'"

So they sit for some time, undeniably content in their cuddle. His arms are so cozy that she falls into a doze, because he's too careful not to jostle her while finishing his own hot chocolate.

Artemis is roused immediately though, when he pays the bill, another two drinks in a carrier ready to go on the table. "It's midnight," he says. "We should go."

She slips on her satchel and latches onto his side, following him absentmindedly as he guides her out of the cafe and onto the street, too busy wondering what happens next. They stand, taking in the night air.

"We have a lot more we need to talk about," he begins, "if this is going to work out."

She sighs in agreement, letting go of his arm, prepared for him to depart. "But not tonight."

Percy nods. "Not tonight. Not the best thing to do so late and tired, and I promised my Mom I would bring back the drinks soon. My home is a few blocks to the left … where do you stay?"

"In fact, only a block over that same direction." Artemis replies, surprised.

"Then shall I escort you?" Percy smiles, offering his arm.

She takes it, and they begin their walk. It's far too slow to be a walk, but she's hardly going to bring that up, and she doubts he would either.

"Like, that's definitely something you're going to have to explain to me. How in heck did you find an open apartment in NYC?" Percy jokes.

"Offering to overpay for a pretty small place may be how," answers Artemis. "But why have you softened your language?"

"Softened? Oh!" Artemis turns, sure to catch him blushing. "I'm practicing to make sure I don't drop the f-bomb or something around Daphne."

"A noble undertaking." She says seriously, before both of them dissolve into chuckles.

They're already nearly there. "I'm staying just here, actually."

And after a brief glance to where Artemis gestured, Percy hums in response before pulling away to face her. Not that she's accepting that - she draws in close, locking her hands at his waist. And when he mirrors her action, she lowers her head, until their foreheads meet.

"Schist, there's so much we need to talk frickin' about," mutters Percy, and Artemis can't help but laugh once again.

"Just think of it as your next adventure - just without all the life-threatening battles," jests Artemis. But when Percy doesn't laugh in return, Artemis reaches up to caress his cheek. "Hey, hey - I know. I think I understand.

"And yes, we do need to talk. I know there's going to be a lot we need to sort out, and I'm still fixing up a bunch of my own matters at the moment. But if your love is as honest, as total as mine - no, because it's as honest and total as mine, I'm sure things will work. We can adapt."

Percy, oddly, finds some humor in that.

"What's so funny?" Artemis asks, frowning.

"I guess gods can change," he answers, chuckling.

How profound. She rolls her eyes. Though … "It's not like I'm immortal anymore, silly."

Then they fall silent and brooding. The only warmth left besides their bodies is the drinks Percy carries, and it's fading.

"I'm just worried - like, what happens when I get back to New Rome for college in a few weeks?" The worry in his voice is far too raw for her liking.

"Well, is it too late for me to apply?"

"Maybe not." The relief in his voice is audible. "I- I should really go, though. How, when do you wanna meet up again?"

Hm … she can spare her matters for another time. "How about you just come here tomorrow morning and we spend the entire day together?"

After a moment of consideration, he answers. "I … think I could do that, yes."

"All day to talk, just as you wanted."

"Oh, Moonbeam, I want to talk with you for a whole lot longer than just one day."

This time, she the one to blush at what he's implying. "You know I'm not the goddess of the moon anymore, Percy."

"Luna." Percy swoops in for a deep kiss, and Artemis closes her eyes, trying to commit this moment to memory forever. "Artemis." Another kiss, more intense than before. "Moonbeam." One last kiss, quick and lingering.

"You will always be the moon to me. Here I am, the tides - and there you shine, pulling me to you. That's … that's life."

Artemis smiles softly in agreement, fingering her new bracelet. "_C'est la vie_."

* * *

It's not a myth believed by many. It is simultaneously too amazing and too understated, too much and too little to believe as truth. An event that surely had to be have been far more grand to ever have happened, compared to what is said to have transpired. But the simple version is the only one ever told nonetheless. The simplicity is what makes it special.

A man finds a goddess grieving, and reassures her. The goddess finds the man mourning, and comforts him. And then they fall in love - a consummate love, that to them, lasts forever and a day.

It is the story of how a goddess achieved mortality.


End file.
